

* •'«* 



v v i 















LOST SHEEP 























Gilt 

Publish** 
&AR 3 m 



LONDON AND NORWICH PRESS, LIMITED, LONDON AND NORWICH 




TO 

C. H. THEW 















CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 


I. 

A Fool and His Money 

ii 

II. 

Hassan Ali ..... 

25 

III. 

In the Rue St. Dominique . 

35 

IV. 

Southward Bound .... 

45 

V. 

The Strange Fold 

55 

VI. 

Among the Lost Sheep . 

66 

VII. 

In the “ Village N£gre ” of Ain 
Sefra ...... 

77 

VIII. 

The House in the Garden 

88 

IX. 

Vaubourg’s Little Ways 

100 

X. 

Exit “ The Swine ” 

hi 

XI. 

The Second Visit to the House in 
the Garden .... 

121 

XII. 

Amine 

13 1 

XIII. 

A Conversation with Desrolles . 

143 

XIV. 

The Protection of “The Others ” 

155 

XV. 

Les Joyeux 

167 

XVI. 

The Senussi show their Teeth 

1 77 

XVII. 

In the Hands of the Senussi 

188 


7 


8 

CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

XVIII. 

Desert Justice .... 

199 

XIX. 

Prisoners 

208 

XX. 

Into the Ahagger 

2l6 

XXI. 

The House of the Stones 

22 7 

XXII. 

The Heart of the Stones 

237 

XXIII. 

Black Magic .... 

251 

XXIV. 

In the Wady-er-Roumi 

262 

XXV. 

What Jim Lingard Found in the 



Cave ..... 

272 

XXVI. 

Naked Steel .... 

283 

XXVII. 

Northward Across the Tanez- 



rafet 

294 

XXVIII. 

Back to the Fold 

305 


LOST SHEEP 















Lost Sheep 


CHAPTER I 

A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 

J IM LINGARD closed the pass-book which he had 
been examining, and threw it on his desk. 
The perusal had not been exhilarating. The 
pass-book showed to the credit of James Lingard 
Esq., 31st Hussars, a sum of £809 6s. 2d., and he knew 
that there were other cheques which had not yet been 
presented. He opened his cheque-book and examined 
the counterfoils : Twenty pounds for his mess bill 
three days ago, thirty-seven to his tailor, and a host 
of smaller ones. Altogether he had a balance left 
of about £700 out of the £10,000 he had received 
under his father's will seven years ago — that meant 
that at most he could put in another nine months 
in the regiment and then, if fortune were still cross- 
grained, leave he must. 

Lingard rose from his chair, lit a pipe and stood with 
his elbows on the narrow mantelpiece of his quarters, 
thinking hard. His head was aching, and his thoughts 
revolved in an interminable cycle around the one fact, 
that he was “ broke.” Should he chuck the whole thing 
now — send in his papers, or try and exchange to an 
infantry regiment ? No, that would be no good. If he 
stuck to the Service at all, it meant the Army Service 
n 


12 


LOST SHEEP 


Corps or a West African Regiment. But luck would be 
sure to change. No chap could go on having the rotten 
time he had had for the last couple of years without 
something decent turning up. There was last year’s 
National — £1,500 gone in one wallop, and he had 
got on at tens, to what he thought was a dead certainty, 
and then the damned brute had fallen at the third 
fence. Oh, the luck must turn somehow, and in the 
meanwhile there was enough to go on with. 

Jim put his pipe on the mantelpiece and yawned. 
He was a dark, tall man of twenty-eight, with a pair 
of rather startlingly blue eyes under dark eyebrows, 
which gave a peculiar though not unpleasant expression 
to his face. It was only at a second glance that one 
noticed the rather heavy jaw, the extreme breadth 
of his shoulders, and the length of his arms. He was 
popular in the regiment, on the whole, but had acquired 
the reputation of being " a funny devil in some ways, 
and with the hell of a temper if he is crossed.” 
He had now served seven years in the 31st, and 
up to the present his life had been that of any cavalry 
subaltern — made up of a good deal of hard routine 
work, varied by polo, and as much leave as he could 
procure. 

The only fly in Lingard’s ointment of life was 
the want of cash. His father, General Lingard, had 
left him £10,000, and this, properly invested, would 
have brought in an income of about £400 a year. 
Now £400 a year, which in some walks of life, or 
in any infantry regiment, represents luxury, is the 
minimum sum which a careful man can manage on 
and keep out of debt in a cavalry regiment, and Jim 
Lingard was not a careful man. His father and mother 
were dead, he had no relations except his father’s 


A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 13 


brother, Colonel Lingard, whom he cordially detested, 
and at the age of twenty-one he had become absolutely 
his own master. For the last seven years Lingard had 
gone the pace with the richer members of the regiment, 
living all the while on his capital, and now he was 
almost face to face with the finish. 

He swore savagely again under his breath; then 
shouted, “ Come in,” in reply to a knock at the 
door of his room, and nodded, as a man of about his 
own age entered, and seated himself on the bed. 

The new-comer opened the conversation. 

“ Goin’ strong, Sikes ? ” he queried. 

Lingard’s sobriquet of Sikes had been given to him 
three days after joining because some one had professed 
to find a likeness in him to the burglar type. 

Lingard laughed a little. “ Oh yes,” he said, 
“ all right. Nothing much doing. Just been looking 
up my accounts, and balancing them a bit ! What 
have you been doing, Toad ? ” 

“ Toad,” otherwise Lieutenant Heming, blew several 
rings of smoke from his cigarette before answering. 
" Me ? ” he said, “ nothin’. Never do if I can help 
it; at least, I’ve been paying the men. Snipey 
shoved it on to me ; said he wanted to go to town ! 
The selfish devil, so did I. He’ll be back to-morrow 
though, and I’m going to ask for leave. Care to come 
up? ” 

Lingard shrugged his shoulders. “ Oh, I don’t 
know,” he answered. “ What for ? There isn’t much 
to do in town. Are you going up for anything 
special. Toad ? ” 

The other shook his head. “ Nothing special,” he 
said. “ Just to have a look at the lights of London. 
I’m so damn sick of this hole, and it’s not much sport 


M 


LOST SHEEP 


going by oneself. You might be a pal and come, 
Sikes. We could have some dinner and do a show 
of sorts, and, I say, Snipey told me of a place 
in Lancaster Gate where we could have a flutter if 
we wanted to ; we might have a look in there if you 
like. Anyhow you may as well come up ! ” 

Lingard nodded. “ All right,” he said, “ I’ll put 
in for leave with you to-morrow. But about this place, 
what did Snipey say ? ” 

Heming lit another cigarette. “ Oh, he said it was 
top-hole,” he answered. “ Private house, servants in 
livery, lashings of fizz and pegs, and Snipey said there 
was some devilish smart women there. Some chap 
he met in town introduced him, and the woman who 
runs the show — it’s run by a woman — told him to send 
any of his brother officers, and they could get in by 
showing Snipey’s card. I think it will be rather a 
lark. That’s all right, then. Well I’m off to dress 
for mess. So long ! ” and he left the room whistling. 

On the afternoon of the next day two officers of 
the 31st Hussars were in the ante-room, discussing 
afternoon tea and the hundred pieces of small gossip 
which go to make the inner life of a regiment. One 
of them was Carstairs, Lingard’s captain, and the 
other a close friend of his — one Anstruther — recently 
promoted to the command of a squadron. 

“ I see Lingard’s off to town again with Heming,” 
said Anstruther. “ He seems to be rather going it 
generally. Between you and I and the table, old 
chap, I fancy there’s going to be an almighty smash 
in that quarter and before very long.” 

Carstairs raised his eyebrows. “ Think so ? ” he 
queried. “ Why ? ” 

Anstruther leaned forward. " For lots of reasons,” 


A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 


15 


he said. “ First place, I know something about 
Lingard’s private affairs. His people used to live 
close to mine in Hampshire, you know, before the old 
man died. You know the way Master Jim has been 
living ever since he came to us. Well, the old General, 
his father, was an awful rum bird, with a passion for 
litigation. He dropped no end of cash over it, and 
though the boy got all he had when he went out, 
I don’t think it was a lot — not enough, anyhow, for 
him to live on as he has been living. The General 
died when Sikes was about fifteen, and when he wasn’t 
at school the boy lived with his uncle. He’s a retired 
Colonel of Sappers, and as mad as a March hare on 
religion. Has family prayers about seven times a 
day, and all that sort of thing, don’t you know. I 
fancy Sikes had a pretty rotten time of it until he 
came to us. Do you know anything about his 
affairs ? ” 

Carstairs shook his head. “No,” he said, “ Sikes 
isn’t an expansive person. I knew of course that he’s 
been living pretty freely, but I thought it was all right. 
He’s been keeping rather to himself lately, but I fancy 
he’s been running some girl in town, and things 
haven’t been going quite as smoothly as they might. 
He’s one of those funny devils that sometimes take 
that sort of thing seriously, but he never says a word. 
Anyhow, I hope things will go all right with him. 
He’s not half a bad chap.” 

Anstruther nodded. “ No,” he said, “ but he’s a 
queer fish. As I say, his father was a funny bird, and 
his mother was French. That may account for him 
getting in tow with a girl, and taking it seriously. The 
French are rather given that way, you know. Any- 
how it’s not our business. I say, I wanted you to 


i6 


LOST SHEEP 


come and have a look at a new gee Eve got,” and the 
two proceeded to talk horse of the most pungent and 
abstruse variety. 

That evening, Lingard and Heming, after dining 
sumptuously, had spent another couple of hours at 
the Empire. They had exchanged excessively full- 
flavoured jests with the houris of the promenade, and 
at the end of the performance had with difficulty 
shaken off two ladies of foreign extraction and easy 
manners, who had wished to entertain them at their 
respective flats. The two subalterns hailed a taxi in 
Leicester Square, and Heming, giving the order 
“ Lancaster Gate,” threw himself back on the seat 
and turned to his companion. “ Devilish good job 
you can jabber French as you do, Sikes,” he remarked. 
“ If you hadn’t been able to, we’d never have got 
rid of those two. Where did you learn it ? I never 
could ! ” 

Lingard smiled. “ Oh, my mother was French, 
he said, “ and I learned to talk it before I did English, 
I think. It’s useful sometimes. If you can’t talk a 
language you get rooked so damnably when you get 
abroad. I say, though, here we are at Lancaster Gate, 
and the chap wants to know where to stop. Where’s 
this place ? ” 

Heming opened the door. " Just here,” he said. 
" Let’s pay the chauffeur and let him go. This way, 
come on.” 

They turned into one of the streets running off 
Lancaster Gate, halted before a house some hundred 
yards up the street and ascended the steps. Heming 
rang, and almost immediately the door was opened 
by a servant in a quiet livery. Heming took the lead. 

* Mrs. — er — er ? ” he inquired. 


A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 


The man bowed. “ Yes, sir,” he answered, “ what 
name shall I say, sir ? ” 

“ Mr. Lingard and Mr. Heming,” returned the 
other, and the servant, bowing again, showed them 
into a small room opening off the hall, and disappeared. 

In about five minutes the door opened, and a tall, 
dark woman of extremely ripe charms entered. 
“ Mr. — er — Heming,” she inquired. “ I don’t think 
I have had the pleasure ? ” 

Heming bowed. “ No, I think not,” he answered 
smoothly, “ but Captain Bowen asked us to call, 
and so ” 

The woman smiled. “ Oh,” she said, “ of course. 
Only too delighted to see any friends of Captain 
Bowen’s. Won’t you come upstairs, and have some 
supper or somethin’ to drink ? We’ve got some people 
in, and after supper perhaps we might have a hand 
of bridge — what ? Anyhow, do come upstairs. So 
glad you came ! ” 

As they followed their hostess upstairs Heming 
whispered to Lingard behind his hand " Oh, my fat 
Aunt Maria ! Bridge ! — here ! Chemin de fer more 
likely. Anyhow, we’ll see.” 

They entered a long room, one corner of which 
was arranged like a buffet, with bottles of various wines 
and spirits, salads and cold meats set out on it. From 
another room, of which the door stood half ajar, came 
a regular hum of conversation, then dead silence, 
broken by a click and whir, and then again the sound 
of voices. 

Heming nudged his companion. “ Bridge,” he 
murmured, “ a new sort, played with a wheel and 
ball — what a time we’re going to have, Sikes ! ” 

The woman put her hand on his arm. “ Now you 


i8 


LOST SHEEP 


boys want a peg, I expect,” she said. “ Just help 
yourselves and have something to eat, and then 
if you’ll come into the — er — card-room I’ll see if I can’t 
get you partners for a rubber. You’ll excuse me, 
won’t you ? I must look after my other guests, 
you know ! ” and she rustled through the door into 
the “ card-room.” 

The two subalterns looked at each other. Then 
Heming remarked, “ Well, there don’t seem to be any 
waiters here — Liberty Hall — what ? Let’s help our- 
selves. First of all, what is there to drink — fizz, 
whisky, hock ! I say, Sikes, let’s split a bottle 
of bubbly. Here we are ! Two tumblers ! I always 
think fizz tastes best out of tumblers. Well, here’s 
chin-chin, old man ! ” 

The two drank deeply, and Lingard emitted a 
pleased sigh. “ I wanted that,” he remarked. 
“ Damned good fizz it is, too. I say, Toad, do you 
think that the profits of the house pay for this sort 
of thing ? Because if they do, you know it doesn’t 
look as if the — er — visitors took much away ! ” 

Heming took another drink and lit a cigarette. 
" Don’t know,” he answered. “ Anyhow, as you say, 
it’s damn good liquor, and somebody must win, or 
else they wouldn’t get people to come here. Hullo ! 
Here’s our hostess ! ” 

The woman who had received them had entered 
the room again, and approached the table, smiling. 

“ Well,” she said, “ have you two boys had a peg 
and something to eat ? That’s right. Now if you’ll 
come with me into the drawing-room I’ll see if I can’t 
find some girls for you to talk to, and if you care for 

a little game This way ! ” She led the way into 

the next room and the two subalterns followed her. 


A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 


The room was a large one, and down the centre of 
it ran a long table, around which were seated and 
standing quite thirty people, both men and women. 
All were in full evening dress, and were so occupied 
with what was going on that they hardly spared 
a glance for the new-comers. The table was covered 
with a cloth painted with numbered squares, and at 
the head of the table was a wheel presided over by 
a man with a short, pointed beard. 

Their hostess turned to her companions. “ Roulette/* 
she remarked. “ We sometimes have a game when 
we have a few friends in. You see we play Zero, 
and double Zero. Also we sometimes play an ‘ eagle.* 
That means an extra chance in favour of the bank, 
of course, but if you do happen to put your money 
on it and it turns up, well, then, you get seventy 
times your stake, which is very comforting, isn’t it ? 
Now I must really leave you. I have no end to do. 
Amuse yourselves just as you like; play if you like 
or look on. Have what you like to eat and drink. 
If you should care about playing, remember a sovereign 
is the lowest stake we ever use. Au revoir ! ” 

The room was thick with smoke. Lingard lit a 
cigarette, and offered one to his companion. “Going 
to have a flutter ? *’ he asked. 

Heming shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Don’t know,” he said, “ are you ? ” 

“ Yes. Might as well.” 

" Right you are.” 

They went towards the table and waited for several 
turns of the wheel, then Heming said to Lingard, 
“ Well, what are you going on, Sikes ? ” 

Lingard looked at the table. 

“ Well,” he said, " she said something about an 


20 


LOST SHEEP 


eagle and seventy times your stake that sounded 
interesting. I think I’ll take a turn on the gay eagle 
bird for a start/’ 

He produced a sovereign and placed it on the square 
painted with the figure of an eagle. The man who 
held the bank said in a loud voice : “ Game made ? 
Nothing more goes,” and the wheel started. As 
it slowed down the pea went bumping and rattling 
round the numbered compartments, and finally 
came to rest in one of them. 

Heming smote his companion violently in the ribs 
with his elbow. 

'* You lucky devil,” he said. “ Pulled it off first 
time ! Seventy quid ! Try again ! ” 

A man seated at the table pushed back his chair 
and offered it to Lingard with a slight bow. 

“You seem to be in luck to-night, sir,” he remarked. 
“ Personally, I am quite the other way ! Have 
had about all I want to-night, as a matter of fact. 
Will you take my chair ? ” 

Lingard thanked him, seated himself, and then 
settled down to serious play. Heming stood at the 
table for a little and then wandered off, finally getting 
into conversation with a girl in a secluded corner of 
the room. 

Lingard played for some time with varying luck, 
and then the chance of the game began to set against 
him finally. Whatever he backed, passe or manque , 
pair or impair , red or black, it was always the opposite 
that turned up. At the end of an hour and a half’s 
play he rose from the table having lost the £70 he 
had won, and also about £14, all the ready money he 
had on him. 

His throat was hot and dry, and he went into the 


A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 


21 


next room for a whisky-and-soda, which he drank 
greedily. 

As he put the tumbler down, some one tapped him 
on the arm, and turning round he saw his hostess) 

“ Finished already ? ” she asked, with a smile. 

Lingard laughed somewhat awkwardly. “ Yes,” 
he said. “Fact is, I came out without much money, 
and Fve dropped that. But I’ve had a delightful 
evening, thanks.” 

The woman lowered her voice. 

“You know,” she said, “ if you care to go on, 
we — I — could change a cheque for you. Any friend 
of Captain Bowen’s — or, for that matter, any officer 
of the 31st ? ” 

Jim reddened a little. 

“ It’s very good of you,” he replied. “ I should 
like to go on, and if it’s not too much trouble I should 
be very much obliged. How much shall I make it 
out for ? ” 

The woman looked at him keenly. “ Well,” she 
said, “ that all depends, you know. How much do 
you want ? And do you want it to play with or not ? 
Look here, if you want to go on playing, why not do it 
with counters ? I give you the counters — blue are 
worth £5, red £ 1 — and you give me your cheque. 
Then, when you’ve had enough of play, just bring your 
counters back here, and I’ll give you your cheque 
back, and buy any others you have over and above 
for cash. Does that suit you ? ” 

Jim nodded. “ Perfectly, thanks,” he replied, 
“but unfortunately I haven’t got a cheque-book with 
me — it’s a nuisance ! ” 

The woman opened a desk. “ Don’t let that worry 
ydu,” she remarked. “ Let’s see, 31st Hussars — oh, 


22 


LOST SHEEP 


yes, your agents are Cox’s. Well, I happen to have an 
account there, and can let you have a cheque if you 
like. Now, how much do you want ? Better take 
£100 worth.” 

Lingard filled in the cheque as requested, and then, 
with a few polite words of thanks, re-entered the 
gambling room and seated himself at the table. 

Three hours afterwards he rose from the table. His 
head was aching badly, and he had a vile taste in his 
mouth. He went to the buffet in the next room 
and mixed himself a final peg. His brain was clogged 
with drink and the fumes of tobacco, and was not 
working clearly, but one thought seemed to take 
possession of it to the utter exclusion of everything 
else : £500 out ! What a triple fool he had 
been. Why the devil had he ever been fool enough 
to change those cheques ? Well, this was the dead 
finish. After he had sold his effects and paid his 
most pressing debts, that would hardly leave him a 
hundred or so in hand. He drained the glass and 
turned slowly from the table. As he left the room 
his hostess stopped him. 

“ I’m afraid you’ve had a bad evening,” she re- 
marked. “ Never mind, you know the luck is bound 
to change. Come again some night, and really I’ll be 
only too glad if you can make up to-night’s losses. I 
think your friend’s waiting for you downstairs. Well, 
good night — or rather good morning — and, I hope, 
au revoir ! ” 

Jim descended the stairs. In the hall he found 
Heming waiting for him. The latter was in fairly 
good spirits. “Hello!” he remarked, “you have 
been making a night of it, Sikes ! What luck— break 
the bank ? ” 


A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 23 


Lingard laughed a little grimly. “ No,” he answered, 
“ I didn’t. Au contraire, as the Frenchman remarked 
on the Channel boat when asked if he had had lunch. 
Well — we’d better get down to Charing Cross. Our 
leave’s up at ten, and it’s nearly six now.” 

The two walked across the park. It was a perfect 
morning in early summer, and Hyde Park looked at 
its best, with the curiously countrified air which it 
sometimes assumes in the early morning. Beyond 
the liver brigade in the Row, the park was almost 
deserted ; and, as the two left the path and struck off 
across the grass under the trees, they might have been 
miles deep in the country for any suggestion of town 
life around them. The morning wind was rustling 
the branches, and the birds were conducting their 
breakfast quarrels, but to Lingard both birds and 
breeze simply formed an accompaniment to the words 
which were still obsessing his brain : “ £500 out ! 
£500 out ! ” 

Half-way across the park he roused himself, and 
became aware, for the first time, that his companion 
was speaking to him. “ I say, Sikes,” he was saying, 
“ do wake up. I’ve been gassin’ for the last ten 
minutes and you haven’t said a word. Had a good 
time ? ” 

“ Very,” responded the other shortly. 

" Lose much ? ” 

“ Fairish lot.” 

Heming looked hard at his friend. “ You know, 
Sikes,” he said gruffly, “ it was 1 brought you to this 
show, and if — well, if — you’re in any hole, you’ve only 
got to come to me, you know ! ” 

Lingard smiled. “Thanks, old man,” he said; 
“ you’re a damned good sort — always were, but it’s 


24 LOST SHEEP 


no use. Eve got to take my medicine. Anyhow, 
it was bound to come before very long, and as well 
now as in six months ! And now, if you don’t mind, 
I want to think things out a bit.” 

They walked together past the Palace, and down 
Birdcage Walk without a word being exchanged, 
and then Lingard shook himself. 

Heming looked at him. “ Well ? ” he queried. 

“ Well ? ” answered the other. “ I’m afraid it’s 
not well, but it’s about all I can do. As soon as 
we get to Shorncliffe, in go my papers. After that, 
the Lord knows! No good crossin’ bridges till you 
come to them. Here we are at Charing Cross. Feel 
like a cup of coffee ? You’ll have to pay, old man. 
I’m broke.” 


CHAPTER II 


HASSAN ALI 

I T was nearly six months from the day that Jim 
Lingard had sent in his papers and left the 
Service. He was seated on a bench in that 
little garden in Paris which nestles between the 
railings of the Avenue de La Motte-Picquet, and 
the old grey wall of the Invalides. He was still 
well and carefully dressed, but a close observer 
would have noticed that his collar was frayed at 
the edges, that his boots were worn, and also 
that there was a drawn look at the corners of the 
mouth. 

Lingard had found on leaving the Service that his 
position was very much as he had calculated that 
summer morning in Hyde Park. After he had settled 
the most pressing of his debts and disposed of his 
couple of polo ponies and effects, he had found himself 
in possession of about £150. On leaving the regiment 
he had established himself in a small, private hotel 
in the West End, and after a sojourn there of a fort- 
night, with some hazy notion of economy, had re- 
moved to a boarding-house in Princes Square, Bays- 
water. This latter had been a species of purgatory. 
Jim had never stinted himself, and the cheap, pre- 
tentious food, and the equally pretentious stodginess 
of Bayswater had got on his nerves. His fellow 
25 


26 


LOST SHEEP 


boarders had for the most part been quick to discover 
that he was of a different social grade from them, and 
resented it, a state of things which was by no means 
improved by the open contempt with which he had 
seen fit to treat the unwritten laws of boarding-house 
society. There is no more narrow-minded precisian, 
within certain limits, than the British officer, and at 
this period of his career the world, to Jim Lingard, 
was divided into two classes — those who were in the 
Service or had relatives in it, and those who hadn’t. 
The first were to be treated as equals, not effusively — 
that was Anathema Maranatha, the Unclean Thing — 
but still to be treated as human beings and the others 
simply did not exist in his scheme of things as they 
ought to be. 

He had had a violent quarrel with his uncle, Colonel 
Lingard, when he announced the fact that he had 
sent in his papers, and had been forbidden the gloomy 
old house in South Kensington. Jim had few acquaint- 
ances in London, and since he had left the Service had 
not troubled about them. Then the awful loneliness 
of London had taken hold of him and he would spend 
days in the boarding-house speaking to no one. These 
fits of seclusion were invariably followed by a wild 
plunge in the other direction, a plunge which took 
the form of visits to night clubs and West End music- 
halls. 

Lingard was no more inherently vicious than any 
other man of his type and training, but to the public- 
school and Service man many things are quite natural, 
and done quite openly, which, to the middle-class 
business man, are “vice,” and only to be indulged 
in in the strictest secrecy. The women at the Bays- 
water boarding-house, passee widows for the most 


HASSAN ALI 27 


part, bored him exceedingly, and he found his feminine 
society in the Empire promenade, or in the lounge 
of certain West End hotels. Then for no very special 
reason a disgust of London had seized on him, and he 
had packed up and gone to Paris. 

He had been there about three months now, and his 
funds were getting woefully low. As he sat on the 
bench in the Square des Invalides he put his hand into 
his pocket, took out his purse and counted the con- 
tents. There were five crumpled notes for 100 francs 
each, and three or four gold pieces — altogether con- 
siderably less than £25 English. Jim Lingard used an 
extremely bad word under his breath. How the devil 
was he going to manage when that was finished ? 
The future stood up before him as hard and grey and 
unpromising as the stone wall facing him. Business 
training he had none, and, if he had, what chance 
had a stranded and penniless Englishman in Paris ? 
Lingard had been long enough in Paris to know the 
hardness that lies underneath the glitter and tinsel 
of the “ City of Light.” He replaced his purse in his 
pocket, and swore again, but this time the oath tailed 
off into a sigh. 

It was now five o’clock, and Lingard awoke to the 
fact that he was extremely hungry. For the past week 
he had gone without his midday meal from motives 
of economy, making his morning " cafe complet ” 
take the place of breakfast and lunch, and having 
an early dinner at one or another small restaurant, 
of which there are so many in Paris. He had taken 
up his quarters at a small hotel in the Avenue Bosquet 
close to the Ecole militaire — the great military quarter 
in Paris — and used to spend many hours hanging about 
outside the barracks of the two regiments of Cuirassiers 


28 


LOST SHEEP 


stationed there, instituting mental comparisons between 
the French and English cavalryman — to the detriment 
of the former. 

Lingard left the little garden and turned up the 
Avenue de La Motte-Picquet. At the top he hesitated 
for a moment, then turned into a cafe, and seated 
himself at a table outside. When the gargon ap- 
peared, Lingard ordered an absinthe, lit a rank French 
cigarette, and then tried to forget his thoughts in 
one of those boulevard papers which purvey the news 
of the day before yesterday under to-morrow’s date. 
The effort was not a success, and after a few minutes 
he placed the paper on the table, and stared 
gloomily in front of him, thinking. £25 in the world ! 
— that was the burden of his thoughts. Jim Lingard 
since he had left the Service had — as many a better 
man has — found out the bitter truth that a man 
without money is an excrescence on the face of our 
modern social system. 

There had been that scene with Cissie Morton in 
London, for instance. Jim flushed and drove his 
heel angrily into the pavement at the bare recollection 
of it. Miss Morton was one of the minor lights of a 
minor West End theatre, and managed to subsist 
very comfortably, in an atmosphere of Savoy sup- 
pers, motor-cars and furs, on a salary of some £3 
a week. Jim Lingard had met her about a year 
before his debacle, and during that year Miss Morton 
had seen to it that he had contributed liberally to the 
pleasures of her life. On hearing that he had left the 
Service she had been extremely sympathetic, but on 
learning of the state of his finances her sympathy 
had suffered an abrupt eclipse, as had her interest in 
him. Jim’s nerves had been raw, and their relations 


HASSAN ALI 


had culminated in a scene at Miss Morton’s flat, 
when that lady, under the stress of emotion, had 
remembered the Hoxton from whence she was digged, 
and descended thither. 

Lingard was roused from his thoughts by a voice 
saying, “ Monsieur permet ? ” and a man leaned 
over from the next table for the discarded paper. 
Jim answered politely, and then nodded as he recog- 
nised a French officer who occupied the room next him 
at his hotel. The Frenchman nodded in turn, making 
a remark about the weather, and the two chatted for 
some time on various subjects. At last the subject 
of the difference between the French and British armies 
was brought up, and the Frenchman remarked: 

“ Eh bien, Monsieur, it appears to me that the 
great difference between the French and British 
armies is that ours is essentially democratic, whilst 
yours is essentially aristocratic. I do not mean to 
say, bien entendu, that the British army is officered 
mainly by aristocrats, as the German is, but to me 
all your officers seem to have the aristocratic cast of 
mind. Now, in the French army, quite half the 
officers are sprung from the people. Take my case, 
my father is a small farmer in Normandy — a peasant — 
and yet I had my commission at twenty-eight, and at 
forty-five am in command of a battalion. Now, would 
that be possible in the British army ? Understand, 
I speak of the system, not of my own case, because 
that had special features.” 

Lingard thought for a moment. 

“ Well,” he replied, “ it might be possible, certainly, 
but not very probable. As you say, Monsieur, the 
officers of our army are almost all of one class, and 
rankers are rather the exception than the rule. But 


30 


LOST SHEEP 


did you get your commission in the ordinary way, 
through St. Cyr, or through the ranks ? ” 

The other laughed. " Oh, through the ranks,” 
he replied, “ and that was pure luck. After I had 
finished my Service in France I went home — but, 
merci ! I could not stand the life on my father’s 
farm, and so I joined the legion etr anger e. Well, 
there is always fighting la-bas, and chances to be taken, 
and I took mine — et voila tout ! ” 

“ But,” remarked Lingard, “ I thought the legion 
etr anger e was a foreign regiment with no Frenchmen 
in it ? ” 

The other shook his head. “ Anyone can join the 
Legion,” he answered, “ Frenchmen as well as for- 
eigners ; only a Frenchman must have done his Service 
at home before he makes his engagement. The life ? 
Oh, the life is a hard one, and a poorly paid one, but 
it is a man’s life, after all. The prospects ? Well, 
that depends on the man. Some men are born to 
rise, and some to sink. For myself, I had fifteen 
years of the Legion in the ranks and as an officer — 
and I wish I were back there ! Well, Monsieur, 
I must say bon soir. Many thanks for our interesting 
conversation ! ” He rose, put on his kepi , picked 
up his sword and left the cafe, with a parting bow. 

Lingard watched him disappear down the street, 
and lit another cigarette, tje was thinking hard, 
but his thoughts were not the same hopeless ones 
of an hour ago. The Frenchman’s words had given 
him an idea. He had heard vaguely of the French 
Foreign Legion before, but only vaguely, and had had 
an idea that it was a regiment of criminals commanded 
by brutes of officers who were practically warders. 
His late companion had certainly seemed neither a 


HASSAN ALI 31 


criminal nor a brute, and if he — a Norman peasant’s 
son — could arrive at a commission through the ranks 
of the Legion, surely it must be easy enough for 
a man who had held a commission before to do the 
same. Anyhow, it would bear thinking about. Jim 
paid for his drink and turned into the November 
evening. As the damp cold bit through his clothes 
he shivered. Well, at any rate, in the Legion — 
if he ever got there — it would be warm; not like 
this infernal hole of a Paris. Jim shivered again, 
and walked faster to keep himself warm. He was 
bound for a little restaurant which he knew of in the 
Rue du Bac, where one could get a filling, if not satis- 
factory, dinner for a franc, with a wine included — a wine 
which turned everything it touched a brilliant blue. 
As he went down the Avenue de La Motte-Picquet. 
and crossed the great Esplanade des Invalides, the 
idea of the Legion took hold of him more and more. 
As things stood he would be decave in a very 
short time — he had learned by experience how very 
short a way £25 will go towards keeping a healthy 
young man with ingrained expensive tastes — and this 
Legion idea might conceivably lead to something. 
Anyhow, r he would have a look round to-morrow and 
see, and until then — well, he was young and hungry, 
with enough money to buy a dinner and to-morrow 
might take care of itself. 

As he entered the small, low-browed restaurant 
in the Rue du Bac, and lifted his hat to the dame de 
comptoir , he noticed that at the table where he usually 
sat, and opposite his place, was seated a tall, thin, 
dark man in a black frock-coat, and with a white muslin 
turban around his head. Lingard looked at him 
without any special interest. He had been long enough 


32 


LOST SHEEP 


in Paris to become used to the many strange types 
which one sees in her streets, and put the stranger 
down as an Oriental of some kind, of narrow means, 
in Paris for business or pleasure. The stranger was, 
as far as Lingard could see, making a meal of a large 
plate of salad and a glass of water; and, beyond lifting 
his eyes for a moment when Jim seated himself at the 
table, took absolutely no notice of him, but con- 
tinued his meal with a grave and preoccupied air. 
Lingard ordered his dinner, and proceeded to eat it 
with the appetite of a man who has eaten nothing 
since the morning, while the stranger, having finished 
his, ordered a cup of coffee, and proceeded to smoke 
a cigarette slowly, evidently in deep thought. 

Jim made a fairly satisfactory dinner on some dead 
horse masquerading as rosbif , an omelet, and un- 
limited bread, and after having lit a cigarette paid his 
bill, and rose to go. He walked slowly up the Rue de 
Grenelle on his way home, feeling rather more con- 
tented than he had an hour or so previously. As he 
debouched on to the Esplanade des Invalides, however, 
he was roused from his thoughts by a couple of reports 
in quick succession, and a scuffle under the trees 
some thirty yards away. 

Jim ran forward, just in time to see a man go down 
under the assault of two others. Farther back, 
leaning against a tree, and holding his left arm, was 
another man. Jim swung up his stick and threw 
himself into the fray. One of the men, who was bending 
over a figure on the ground, straightened himself 
with a jerk, and turned on Lingard with a long blade 
shining dully in his hand, to go down, with a grunt, 
from a drive of the ferrule of the latter’s stick, delivered 
bayonet-wise about the third button of the waistcoat. 


HASSAN ALI 


33 


The other man leaped backwards, and bolted like a 
hare through the trees, disappearing in the direction 
of the Gare des Invalides, the other two staggering 
after him. 

Jim stooped to raise the prostrate man, and to his 
surprise recognised the Oriental who had sat opposite 
him at dinner. Beyond having lost his white turban, 
which he proceeded to re-roll at once, the latter 
did not appear to be in the least damaged, and was 
quite calm. “ Many thanks, Monsieur,” he remarked, 
in excellent French. “ You came just at the right 
moment. Another half minute and one or both of 
those knives would have been in my throat. Again, 
monsieur, accept my thanks.” 

Jim was breathing hard. “Not at all,” he began 
awkwardly, in English. The stranger made a 
gesture. 

" Ah — English ! ” he said in that language, “ on the 
spot, as usual ! Well, sir, you have done a great 
service. I do not speak of your having saved my life, 
though that is valuable enough to me, but to a Cause, 
and perhaps some day I may be able to pay the debt 
which that Cause owes you. In the meanwhile, if I 
might make a suggestion, I think we had better move 
from here. There have been shots fired, as doubtless 
you heard, and the police will probably be here soon — 
too late as usual. Well, sir, my road lies this way,” 
pointing towards where the great mass of the Invalides 
stood out against the dark sky, “ and before we part, 
again — many thanks.” He bowed and turned to go ; 
but wheeled and came close to Jim and looked him 
in the face, and then spoke again. “ We shall see 
each other again,” he said. “ My name is Hassan Ali 
of — we ll, of all the world — and yours ? Lingard ? 


c 


34 LOST SHEEP 


Yes, I shall remember that. Well, Mr. Lingard, an 
revoir ! ” 

He turned and vanished among the trees, and Jim 
Lingard, after watching him a moment, also turned 
and crossed the Esplanade on his way to his hotel 
and bed. 


CHAPTER III 


IN THE RUE ST. DOMINIQUE 

T HE next morning Lingard rose early, and made 
a careful toilet — much in the same spirit as 
the criminal eats a hearty breakfast before 
execution. He had made guarded inquiries of the 
proprietor of the hotel where he lodged as to the where- 
abouts of the recruiting station for the Foreign Legion, 
and had found out that it was in the Rue St. Dominique, 
and not more than half a mile away. Jim had passed 
a disturbed night. The conversation he had had at 
the cafe with the officer, and the scuffle on the 
Esplanade des Invalides repeated themselves again and 
again in his mind, and when at last he dropped off 
to sleep continued to do so in his dreams. He woke 
early, with a slight headache, but also with his mind 
made up. No matter what the life was like, it would 
be better than Paris with empty pockets — a fear 
which was beginning to assume the proportions of a 
constant nightmare to him. 

As he walked through the dark, narrow Rue St. 
Dominique, Jim, for the first time in his life, began 
to feel almost like a hero of romance. He had a dim 
recollection of having read a book by a famous authoress 
purporting to give a description of life in the Legion. 
He distinctly remembered that the hardy hero’s 
method of joining was to appear at a cafe in Algiers, 
35 


3 ^ 


LOST SHEEP 


arrayed in a velvet sporting suit, and to proceed to 
shake dice with some officers there as to whether he 
should join the Legion or the Arabs ! That in Jim’s 
opinion showed a truly sporting spirit. He looked at 
several cafes in passing, but there did not seem to 
be any officers “ dipping their moustaches in beakers of 
still champagne,” as, according to the gifted authoress, 
they were in the habit of doing in Algiers. As a matter 
of fact, what few officers he saw seemed to be in rather 
a hurry, and mostly in a very bad temper — not at 
all the sort of men who would play at dice with a perfect 
stranger. Then he remembered that the lady’s 
description of a steeplechase — a subject of which he 
had some knowledge — was, to put it mildly, rather 
exaggerated, and reluctantly concluded that she was 
not a reliable guide. 

By this time he had arrived at the corner of the Rue 
St. Dominique where it opens on the Esplanade, 
and after some trouble noticed a small, dingy building 
with the legend over the door in blue letters : 

Bureau de recrutement. 

Engagements volontaires. 

Anything less romantic looking Lingard had never 
seen. The Rue St. Dominique, at its best, is a prosaic 
street, and the small house he was looking at was one 
of the most prosaic houses in it. However, in spite 
of its smallness and dinginess it carried the peculiar 
air which all Government buildings in all countries 
seem to wear. Jim looked at it for a moment and then 
pushed open the rather rusty gate, traversed the flagged 
pathway which led through a small and melancholy 
garden, opened the swing door and entered. Inside 
he found himself in a long and badly-lit passage, 


IN THE RUE ST. DOMINIQUE 


37 


smelling pungently of soft soap and disinfectants. 
He traversed this for a few steps and then found him- 
self opposite a small wicket in the wall, above which 
appeared the words, “ Legion Etrangere.” 

He advanced and looked in. Inside, at a small 
table, was seated, industriously writing, a middle-aged 
man with a hard face, and with two gold stripes on his 
sleeves. This individual took not the slightest notice of 
Jim, or anything else, and continued writing as if for a 
wager. Jim waited for quite five minutes, and then 
tapped tentatively on the shelf of the wicket. The 
man at the table stopped writing, and looked up 
sourly. “ Well, what do you want — Monsieur ? " 
he snapped, adding the last word somewhat reluctantly, 
as he noticed that Lingard was wearing a clean collar 
and a good hat, and was therefore presumably respect- 
able. 

“ I want information as to joining the legion 
Urangere ” replied Jim, “and ” 

The man inside returned to his writing with a 
vicious jerk. “ Legion etrangere, second door to the 
left,” he snapped, and continued his task, apparently 
utterly oblivious to all other mundane affairs. 

Jim left the wicket and, having found the indicated 
door, entered. He found himself in a large, bare room, 
furnished with a table in the middle, and several chairs 
set around the wall, with the distressing accuracy 
so dear to the French heart. However, there was a 
good fire burning in the fireplace. Lingard, who was 
cold, took one of the chairs from its place in the 
row, placed it close to the fire, lit a cigarette, 
and made himself as comfortable as circumstances 
permitted. 

He had waited for nearly half an hour, and had begun 


38 


LOST SHEEP 


to think that he had been forgotten, when the door 
opened suddenly, and the individual he had seen before 
entered He looked at Lingard. “ Smoking is for- 
bidden here,” he snapped. “ Also it is forbidden 
to move the furniture. This way ! ” 

Jim followed him meekly across the passage to a 
door marked “ Commandant de Recrutement,” which 
his companion opened, and then motioned him to enter. 
He found himself in a large, bare room, in which an 
elderly, grey-haired man, attired in a black tunic, 
with gold and silver bands on the cuffs, and a pair of 
baggy red trousers with black stripes, was seated 
at a desk. Jim’s companion advanced into the middle 
of the room, and, saluting stiffly, jerked out : “ For 
the Legion, mon commandant ,” and then stepped back 
to the door, where he maintained an attitude of strict 
attention throughout the ensuing interview. 

The officer at the table looked up and regarded 
Lingard mildly through a pair of spectacles. 

" Do you wish to make an engagement in the legion 
Hr anger e, Monsieur ? ” he queried. 

“ Not precisely, Monsieur,” Jim answered, flushing, 
and stammering a little, “ that is to say, I have been 
thinking about it, and would like some further in- 
formation.” 

The commandant nodded amiably. “ Certainly,” 
he replied. “ The engagement for the legion Hr anger e 
is for five years, in Algiers or any other colony of France. 
The pay is one sou per diem. If a Legionary re- 
engages at the end of five years’ service, and again 
at the expiration of ten years, on completion of fifteen 
years’ service he receives a pension varying in amount 
according to the rank he held on retirement. If a 
Legionary is a foreigner, on completion of five years’ 


IN THE RUE ST. DOMINIQUE 


service he can claim naturalisation as a French 
subject.” 

This information was spoken quickly, and was 
evidently a well-worn formula, but once having de- 
livered it the old officer leant forward and spoke 
again. 

“ I will not disguise from you, Monsieur,” he said, 
“ that the life is a hard one — a very hard one — in 
no way one to suit a man who has no natural love of 
soldiering, under all conditions. On the other hand, 
to such a man the life offers opportunities both of 
military glory and promotion. Many of the highest 
officers in the Legion began life in it as simple Legion- 
aries. Still, as I say, the life is not one for every- 
body. And now — can I tell Monsieur anything 
further ? ” 

Jim had been thinking hard. Fond of soldiering 
for its own sake he certainly was — but the miserable 
pay ! Still, a beggar as he practically was could 
hardly afford to pick and choose, and after all five years 
is not an eternity. He looked up at the officer. “ I 
have made up my mind, Monsieur,” he said, “ I 
wish to join the Legion.” 

The other nodded. 

“ Good,” he remarked. “ Your name ? Age ? 
nationality ? Very good, if you pass the doctor, 
I will engage you. Sergeant-major ! ” 

He began to write again, and the sergeant-major, 
opening the door, stiffly motioned Jim out into the 
passage, and ushered him into a room in which were 
four or five other men — also would-be recruits for the 
Foreign Legion. 

Jim looked at them somewhat curiously. While 
quite obviously none of them belonged to the higher 


40 


LOST SHEEP 


walks of life, on the other hand, none of them looked 
in the least like desperadoes. Two of them were 
plainly German, and the others were apparently 
French. 

However, he had very little time to indulge in con- 
jectures about his companions, for he was shown into 
a species of cupboard by his companion, and ordered 
gruffly to strip. Another door was then opened, 
and he was introduced, in puris naturalibus, into the 
presence of a short, stout individual, attired in a pair 
of red trousers and a white overall, who proceeded 
to put him through a searching medical examina- 
tion. 

This finished, he was reconducted to his cupboard, 
ordered to dress, which being accomplished he was once 
more brought before the commandant, who informed 
him that he was “ accepted,” and desired him to attend 
at the same time next day to sign his formal engage- 
ment, at the same time explaining to him that, until 
this ceremony was performed, he had not committed 
himself to anything, and was under no obligation to 
proceed with the engagement. 

Jim found himself in the Rue St. Dominique with very 
mixed feelings. On the one hand, if he cared to draw 
back even now he was still a free man ; but of what use 
was freedom with empty pockets, and he knew that his 
soon would be empty. On the other, was a Service, 
a Service, as he had been previously warned, both hard 
and miserably paid, but still, at the worst, a man’s 
life, and one that secured the bare necessities at least 
of existence. Jim halted at the corner of the Rue St. 
Dominique and the Avenue Bosquet, felt in his trousers 
pocket, and produced a copper coin. He spun it 
on his thumb-nail, and as it came down caught it 


IN THE RUE ST. DOMINIQUE 41 


in his left palm, and covered it with his right hand. 
“ Heads I go ” he said, half aloud, “ tails I chance my 
luck here. Heads it is ! Well, that's settled.” 

He entered his hotel, and packed the most neces- 
sary of his few belongings in a small portmanteau. 
Descending the stairs, he sought the proprietor of the 
hotel in his small, glass-fronted bureau, explaining to 
him that he would be leaving next day, and wished 
to settle his bill. 

Fat Monsieur Thuriot made out the bill and handed 
it to him duly receipted with the hieroglyphic scrawl 
which serves so many Frenchmen for a signature. 
" I regret that Monsieur is leaving us,” he remarked 
amiably. “ Monsieur has been a model locataire. 
Perhaps if Monsieur has found a situation not too far 
away he would care to keep on his room ? A re- 
duction of rent, perhaps ? ” 

Jim smiled. “ A thousand thanks, Monsieur,” 
he replied, " but I regret that it is impossible. I 
have found a situation, it is true — but a long way from 
Paris. As a matter of fact, to-morrow I make an 
engagement for five years in the legion etrang&re.” 

Monsieur Thuriot held up his hands. “ But, 
Monsieur,” he protested, “ that is a service of the most 
frightful ! In Algeria one risks sunstroke, in Cochin 
China fever, and in West Africa both ! These are the 
countries where the Legion is stationed. Voyons, 
monsieur, do not be foolish. Stay here, and if you 
are temporarily embarrassed — well, your bill can always 
stand over till times change ! ” 

Jim shook his head. " Thank you, Monsieur,” 
he replied, “ you are a good sort, but I have made 
up my mind. However, if you do not mind keeping 
one of my trunks until I come to claim it, I shall be 


LOST SHEEP 


very much obliged. If I do not come in five years — 
well, you may keep it as a souvenir ” 

Monsieur Thuriot nodded. 

" Certainly,” he said. “ But I fear — I greatly 
fear that I shall keep that trunk. Few come back 
from the Legion. Well, Monsieur, adieu, and good 
luck ! ” He held out his hand to Jim, and a few 
minutes afterwards the latter found himself standing 
in the street with his bag in his hand. 

That night Jim passed — it would be incorrect to say 
slept, that was impossible for several hundred reasons — 
in a small room next door to the Bureau de Recrute- 
ment. At nine o’clock he repaired thither, and was 
shown into the presence of the commandant by the 
same surly non-commissioned officer. 

The commandant received him with a smile. 

“ Not thought better of your bargain then, mon 
gars ? ” he queried. “ Well, here is the form for your 
signature,” and he handed Jim a bluish-grey form 
indicating the place for signature with his pen. 

Jim cast his eyes over the document. It was a 
contract by which he engaged to serve the French 
Republic as a soldier in the Foreign Legion for the term 
of five years. There was nothing especially note- 
worthy in it, and he took the proffered pen and signed 
his name. 

The commandant returned to his desk, and filled 
in a paper which he handed to the other. “ This,” 
he said, “ is your travelling warrant. You must now 
remember that you are a duly enlisted soldier of 
France, and as such are subject to martial law. You 
will proceed by to-night’s train from the Gare de Lyon 
to Marseilles, where you will be met by a non-com- 
missioned officer, to whom you will report yourself 


IN THE RUE ST. DOMINIQUE 


43 


for orders. You must remember that any failure to 
report yourself constitutes desertion, and renders 
you liable to penal servitude or service in a disciplin- 
ary battalion. I think that is all. I wish you good 
luck, and a pleasant voyage.” 

Jim turned to leave the office, but as he did so 
the sergeant-major barked, “ Legionary, attention ! 
Salute the commandant ! ” Jim did so, and left the 
room, following the sergeant-major. In the passage 
the latter regarded him gloomily. “ I am afraid 
they will have a hard job with you in the Legion,” 
he remarked, “ those who smoke in Government offices 
and move Government chairs, without permission, 
never come to good in the Service I ” and he shook his 
head sadly, as though mourning for Jim’s depravity. 

The latter concluded that the sergeant-major re- 
quired cheering, and tentatively suggested an adjourn- 
ment to a cafe, but the sergeant-major was adamant. 
“It is forbidden by the regulations for non-commis- 
sioned officers to partake of refreshments with soldiers, 
above all with bleus,” 1 he observed sternly, “ and I 
obey the regulations — me ! If they were not obeyed 

where would the Service be ? Still ” and he 

paused suggestively. Jim saw his drift, and pressed 
a five franc piece into his hand, to be rewarded with 
a distinct softening of manner. 

“ I can see that you are a bleu of intelligence,” 
the sergeant-major remarked approvingly. “Now 
listen to what I say. When you arrive Id-bas you will 
see some strange things. Well, take an old soldier’s 
advice, and keep your mouth shut and your ears and 
eyes open. Leave the absinthe and women alone 
if you can, and above all ” — here he wagged his finger 
1 Recruits. 


44 LOST SHEEP 


at Jim solemnly — “ tallow your feet before a march. 
If you observe all these things you may in time come 
to be a credit to the army — that is, always supposing 
you don’t get an Arab knife into your belly 1 ” 

He turned and bolted into his little room, slamming 
the door, and the last glimpse Lingard had through 
the wicket was one of him writing furiously. 


CHAPTER IV 


SOUTHWARD BOUND 

A BOUT ii a.m. the next morning Jim Lingard 
rose from the hard seat of the third class 
carriage, where he had spent an uncomfortable 
night, and stretched himself in the vain endeavour to 
get rid of the cramp and aches consequent on a four- 
teen or fifteen hours’ journey on a cushionless seat. 

~ He had a bad taste in his mouth, also he was con- 
scious of an extremely unpleasant empty feeling 
just under the fourth button of his waistcoat. He had 
had the carriage practically to himself. The French 
Government sends its recruits for the Foreign Legion 
to Marseilles without any escort, and so long as they 
arrive by the specified train, reasonably sober, no 
questions are asked as to whether they have travelled 
together or not. Jim had noticed no one at the Gare 
de Lyon who looked as if he might be bound on the 
same errand as himself, and his sole companions 
during the night had been casual wayfarers who 
entered and alighted at wayside stations. Now the 
train was just entering the great station of Marseilles, 
and in a few moments it came to a halt. Jim descended 
and looked around him. At first he could only see 
the ordinary crowd of a railway station, but presently 
he noticed a non-commissioned officer of infantry 
standing by one of the exits. 

45 


46 LOST SHEEP 


Jim had had time during his sojourn in Paris to 
make himself acquainted with the different uniforms 
of the French army, and he noticed that this man’s 
uniform, while following the design of that of the 
infantry of the line, was different in several details. 
The trousers were fuller, the epaulettes were green 
with a red fringe instead of being all red, and round 
the waist and over the tunic was worn a broad blue 
woollen sash. The wearer of this uniform seemed 
to be keeping an attentive, if somewhat bored, eye 
on the exit, and Jim approached him. " Pardon, 
Monsieur,” he remarked, “I am a recruit for the 
Foreign Legion.” 

The other turned to him. 

" Recruit for the Legion ? ” he said, " Oh, well, they 
don’t seem to have sent down any more bleus by this 
train. Your name ? ” 

“ Lingard,” answered Jim. 

“ Well, Lingard,” answered the other, “ when you 
speak to a non-commissioned officer now, remember 
to give him the title of his rank ; Monsieur is all very 
well for pekins, 1 but we have no use for it in the Service. 
Also remember that when you address a sergeant you 
salute him. I tell you this for your own good ; it will 
save you trouble afterwards if you remember it. Now, 
if you have your things, this way,” and he led the way 
out of the station. 

Jim drew a deep breath. In Paris the weather had 
been typical of November, dull, dirty, and cold; but 
in Marseilles the conditions were those of early May, 
and the sun was shining from a cloudless sky. 

The sergeant looked at him. “ Warmer than Paris 
here,” he remarked. " Well, just wait until you get 
1 Civilians. 


SOUTHWARD BOUND 


47 


la-bas, and feel the sun of Algeria on your head. This, 
why, this is colder than the coldest day we ever get 
there. Not that it isn’t hot enough to be thirsty work 
waiting for bleus,” he added pensively, to the sky. 

Jim was aware of the etiquette attached to these 
occasions now, and produced a two franc piece. 

“ I shall be much honoured, sergeant,” he said, 
“ if you will quench your thirst at my expense.” 

The other took the two franc piece, looked at it, 
put it in his purse, and to Jim’s amazement gravely 
handed him a franc in return. 

“ That is quite enough,” he remarked. “ In the 
Legion we share and share alike. When a Legionary 
has money his comrades benefit, and so I take money 
from you for a drink, because I cannot drink with 
you by the regulations. Still, as I say, a franc is 
enough for the thirst I have at present. Many thanks.” 

By this time the two were walking along the crowded 
water front, and after a short time the sergeant 
pointed out a rather dilapidated-looking fort with a 
lighthouse tower. 

“ Fort St. Jean,” he reamarked briefly. "You 
sleep there to-night, and go on with the draft to- 
morrow. We have some more of you bleus in the 
fort, so you will have companions.” 

By this time they had crossed the drawbridge 
leading into the fort, and Jim’s companion, after a few 
words with the sergeant of the guard at the gate, 
handed his companion over to him with the laconic 
introduction, " Bleu for the Legion,” and with a 
parting nod to Jim lounged off. 

The sergeant of the guard led Jim through several 
damp, flagged passages, and finally threw back a door, 
remarking, “ Entrez ! ” 


48 LOST SHEEP 


Jim entered. The room was an ordinary barrack 
room, with twenty or thirty cots ranged round the 
walls, and was occupied by several men sitting or lying 
on benches or cots. Jim advanced into the room 
and looked around him. Most of the occupants 
were too much engaged with their own thoughts to 
take much notice of anyone else, while several others 
were playing cards on a cot, with a pack of cards the 
state of which prevented much interest being taken in 
the game, as, after half an hour or so’s play, anyone 
with a reasonably good memory could have recognised 
every card in the other players’ hands from the stains 
on the backs. Nearly all the men were smoking ; and, 
as the windows were all carefully shut and there was 
a charcoal stove burning, the atmosphere simply 
caught one by the throat. 

Jim sat down on a vacant cot, and as he did so a 
man who was lying on the next one looked up. 

“ For the Legion ? ” he queried. 

Jim nodded in reply. 

“ So am I,” returned the other, “ so are all of us 
here. Most of this lot seem to be Prussians or Germans 
of some sort — and you, comrade ? ” 

" Me ? English,” answered Jim. 

" English — bon,” answered the other. “ Well, I’m 
French — Aristide Joseph Chuard, commonly known 
as * Aristo of Mont Parnasse.’ This,” and he indicated 
a young man with a straggling, fair beard, sitting on 
the bed next him, “is M. le professeur — oh, I forget his 
name, but I call him Lunettes. What is your name. 
Lunettes ? ” 

The other blinked behind a pair of large spec- 
tacles. 

“ Desrolles,” he answered mildly. 


SOUTHWARD BOUND 


49 


“Oh, yes, Desrolles,” went on Chuard. “M. le 
ftrofesseur Desrolles, of the University of Paris ” 

The other young man shook his head sadly. “ Our 
friend here goes too fast,” he remarked solemnly. 
“You see before you. Monsieur, merely an unhappy 
graduate of medicine of the University of Paris driven 
to these straits and this company ” — here he pointed 
at Chuard — “ by the stony heart of a parent who re- 
fused to — er — cough up the wherewithal to continue 
his son’s studies. I explained to him with tears, 
Monsieur, that as your great English poet says, 
' The proper study of mankind is man,’ and, as I 
explained to him, man embraces woman. But my 
father has no soul, Monsieur. He does not care for 
poetry ! What did he reply ? He replied, Mon- 
sieur, that I had wasted enough of his good money 
embracing woman, and that until I came home like 
the prodigal son — well, I will not shock your ears by 
repeating his language. So I came here. How did 
I come here ? ” turning to Chuard. 

That worthy grinned. “ In the train,” he said, 
“ under the seat most of the way. You were full, 
professor ! Do you remember how you called the 
station-master at Dijon, Leonie, and swore you loved 
only him; do you remember ? ” 

The other waved his hand tolerantly. “ Great 
minds must unbend sometimes,” he remarked. “ Well, 
as I said, here I am, and so far as I can see, here I stay. 
And you, Monsieur ? ” 

“ My name is Lingard,” Jim replied, “ and 
all I know is that I am most damnably hungry. 
Do they ever give you anything to eat in this 
place ? ” 

Chuard answered him. He was a small, dark man, 


5o 


LOST SHEEP 


with a good-natured, monkey-like face, and the quick 
nervous movements of the Parisian. 

“ Ma foi, yes,” he answered, “ it ought to be just 
about the hour of soupe now. Yes, here it comes ! ” 

A man entered, bearing steaming tins of soup, and 
Jim found himself at the table eating his first meal in 
the Legion, and chatting to his two companions as 
if he had known them for years. 

He found both of them amusing in their different 
ways, and — as he was to find during their service 
together — thoroughly good fellows. Desrolles, the ex- 
doctor, was an amusing scamp with a saintly face, who 
had been cast off by his father, a wealthy silk manu- 
facturer of Lyons, and who had joined the Legion, with 
no very clear idea of what he was doing, as the crown- 
ing achievement of a monumental spree. 

Chuard, the Parisian, was a man of a different social 
standing altogether, who had apparently been driven 
into the Legion, as so many are, by mere stress of 
hunger. He had served his three years of compulsory 
service in a line regiment, and therefore was better 
posted as to details of routine than the other recruits. 
Small, dark and active — Jim was to learn that he was an 
accomplished athlete — he represented the traditional 
type of the French infantry soldier. 

Jim found the soup and bread, with the coffee which 
followed it, extremely grateful after his long fast, and 
felt distinctly better for it. 

When he had finished he sat on a cot and, after 
cigarettes were lighted, exchanged impressions with 
his two new comrades. The other recruits — except two, 
who happened to be out-of-work Italian labourers — 
were Germans, and discoursed together in their 
own language. 


SOUTHWARD BOUND 


Desrolles seemed to have no very clear idea about 
how he had either joined the Legion or come to Mar- 
seilles, and seemed inclined to treat the whole affair 
as a kind of joke. Chuard, on the other hand, seemed 
to know very well what he had done, and not to regret 
it in the least. As he explained to the other two, 
“ A full belly in Algeria is better than an empty one 
in Paris,” and indeed Jim agreed with him. In any 
case, there was no going back on the bargain now. 
Whether the recruits wished it or not, they were now 
soldiers of France, and the Republic would see to it 
that they kept their bargain. 

During the afternoon Chuard proposed a visit to 
the canteen to “ baptise their acquaintanceship,” 
which Jim, having nothing better to do, cheerfully 
accepted. Desrolles was even more enthusiastic on 
the subject. As Jim was afterwards to find out, that 
gentleman was prepared to go almost anywhere or 
do anything for a drink, and possessed a perfectly 
uncanny knack of procuring liquor from unlikely 
places. It got to be a saying in his company that, if 
Lunettes was planted by himself in the middle of the 
Sahara, he would walk straight to the nearest sandhill 
and produce a bottle of wine from it. 

Jim found the canteen crowded with men of the 
various French regiments of the 19th Army Corps — the 
Algerian one. Chasseurs d’Afrique, Zouaves, Tirail- 
leurs, Algerians and Spahis were sitting at small tables, 
or standing at the bar, smoking, talking, and drinking 
wine. Chuard ordered three chopes of this, and 
Jim found to his surprise that it was very good — 
much better than he had drunk at many an hotel 
in England. The price was ridiculously low, ten 
centimes for a mug holding almost half a pint. 


52 


LOST SHEEP 


Several of the soldiers in the canteen spoke to Jim, 
and seemed disposed to be friendly. He began to see 
that, in the French army of Africa at least, the reputa- 
tion of the Foreign Legion was a high one, and, as he 
was to find out, deservedly so. 

It is an easy thing for people who have always led 
an orderly, comfortable, sheltered life to look on, and 
speak of the French Foreign Legion as “ desperadoes,” 
“ offscourings of civilisation,” and the like, but those 
who have seen and known the Legion can tell another 
story. “ Desperadoes ” the men of the Legion are, 
if to be a desperado means to be absolutely careless 
of one’s life, and ready to lay it down at a moment’s 
notice for a wage of a sou a day and for the honour 
of their regiment. “ Offscourings of humanity ” the 
men certainly are not. Wild and reckless the average 
Legionary is, and apt to take his pleasure in a way 
which would make the average British business man, 
with his seat in church or chapel — from which he prays 
every Sunday to be delivered from the sins which 
he commits with avidity all the rest of the week — 
gasp with horror ; but the Legionary at least is no 
hypocrite, and will stand by a comrade while there is a 
spark of life in his body. As to his value as a fighting 
man, let the wars of France for the last seventy years 
speak ! 

At nine o’clock the canteen was closed, when Jim and 
his companions were sent to their room, and warned 
by a corporal to be in readiness to embark for Oran at 
six o’clock the next morning. 

Jim slept well, and the next morning was marched 
down to the quay with the rest of the recruits. The 
vessel, besides the twenty or so recruits for the Legion, 
was crowded with details for the other African corps, 


SOUTHWARD BOUND 


53 


all old soldiers, whose knowledge of Algerian manners 
and morals seemed to be extensive and peculiar. 

One thing which "struck Jim forcibly was, that in 
Algeria, or at any rate outside the settled parts, 
sudden and violent death was always lurking close 
to a man’s elbow. Name after name was mentioned, 
and almost always in connection with a tragedy. It 
also struck him that these men had a very strongly 
developed, and somewhat peculiar, sense of humour. 
No matter how ghastly the details of a tragedy, the 
humorous side of it was always insisted on, and, by 
the way the story was told, in some way the tragedy 
itself supplied the humour. 

Some of the stories he heard were unrepeatable, but 
the following will serve as an example of the some- 
what macabre humour of the army of Africa. It 
was told by a Chasseur d’Afrique, in reply to a demand 
for “ that story about Bonnard.” 

“ Bonnard ? ” he began. " Oh, Bonnard had been 
in the “ Chass. d’Af.” about twenty-five years. Started 
as trumpeter, and never got much higher. Well, 
ce bon Bonnard was soaked from hair to heels in absinthe 
and of course was cafard ” — Jim was to find out what 
this meant later — “ everyone is after twenty-five years 
in Algeria. Anyhow, Bonnard was pretty well past 
his work, but if he couldn’t do anything else he could 
cook, so they made him cook to the officer’s mess. 

“ Well, they took us out for a long field march one 
day, and when we halted for the evening we found we 
had out-marched the commissariat, and devil a scrap 
of food was there for anyone ! The Colonel was 
furious, and gave Bonnard the rough side of his 
tongue over it — as if it were his fault ! Bonnard 
didn’t say much, took his telling off, and sort of faded 


54 


LOST SHEEP 


away. Did any of you know Mere Tissot — Mere-fort- 
en-Poil we called her ? ” Several men nodded. “ Well 
Mere-fort-en-Poil was supposed to be behind with the 
commissariat. The next thing was that Bonnard 
produced a dish of delicious pork chops from nowhere, 
for the officers’ dinner. They were too hungry to 
bother much where they came from, and ate them and 
enjoyed them. And now comes the joke. They 
hadn’t finished dinner an hour before up comes a 
messenger to say that Mere-fort-en-Poil had been 
found on the road a few miles back, with her head 
bashed in, and several nice fillets neatly cut from her ! 
That devil Bonnard had gone back and finished her 
to get something for the officers’ dinner. 

“ They say it was the funniest thing you ever saw, 
when the Colonel heard of it, and rushed to his officers, 
yelling, * Do you know what we’ve had for dinner, 
gentlemen ? Mere-fort-en-Poil ! 1 ” 

Jim retired to rest that night with the conviction 
that his new life was likely to prove at least a fairly 
exciting one. 


CHAPTER V 


THE STRANGE FOLD 

T WO days after leaving Marseilles the boat arrived 
at Oran. Almost as soon as it arrived along- 
side the quay it was boarded by a sergeant 
of the Legion, who collected his bleus, and, 
after getting them into some sort of formation, 
marched them off to Fort St. Therese, which is the 
clearing-house for the Foreign Legion in Algeria, as 
Fort St. Jean is in France. Fort St. Ther&se is a filthy 
and insanitary barrack, and Jim, who was under the 
impression that all barracks in Algeria were of the 
same type, began to think that life in the Legion was 
even harder than it was reputed to be. 

However, he was not fated to experience its discom- 
forts for long. Fort St. Therese was full of recruits, 
and two days after Jim’s batch had arrived he was 
informed that he was posted to the “ ist regiment 
etranghe ,” and would proceed by the next morning’s 
train to Sidi-bel-Abb6s, about seventy miles away. 
This is the head-quarters of the first regiment of the 
Legion, Saida being that of the second. Both Chuard 
and Desrolles were also posted to the ist, most of the 
rest of Jim’s fellow travellers going to the 2 nd 
regiment etr anger e. The journey was quite uneventful, 
and very slow. 

Jim had served with his regiment in the South 
African war, and had always had an idea that Algeria 
55 


56 LOST SHEEP 


consisted of sandy desert like the Karroo, which he had 
passed through when going up country with his regi- 
ment. To his surprise, however, he found the country 
between Oran and Sidi-bel-Abbes to be anything 
but desert, but on the other hand thickly populated 
and exceedingly fertile and well cultivated. On 
their arrival, the recruits were met by a sergeant, 
and marched to the barracks. These latter were 
very different from the tumbledown ones at Fort 
St. Therese. The French Government recognises 
that it has got incomparable soldiers for a starvation 
wage in its Legionaries, and therefore takes pains to 
keep them as fit as possible in barracks. This does 
not alter the fact that the same Government never 
shows the least hesitation about sacrificing its Legion- 
aries’ lives. As General de Negrier said to them 
in Cochin China, when they grumbled mildly about 
being constantly sent to the most fever-stricken posts, 
and suggested that the French Line troops ought 
to take their turn : “ These men have parents and 
friends who will miss them if they die. You are 
here to die — it is your business — do it cheer- 
fully ! ” 

At Sidi-bel-Abbes the rooms were scientifically built 
to admit the utmost amount of air and light, with 
plenty of wash-houses, etc. Jim was to find out 
that these wash-houses were to play a rather large 
part in his life during the hot weather. 

In summer the men of the Legion wear white duck 
trousers instead of the usual red ones. Now, the 
Foreign Legionary, in direct opposition to the French 
line soldier, or pioupiou — who is excessively slovenly — 
is an extreme dandy as regards his turn-out, and Jim 
found that a large portion of his time was spent in the 


THE STRANGE FOLD 


57 


wash-house, washing his white trousers, and a still 
longer time in keeping an eye on them after they had 
been washed. 

One day, when Jim was a recruit of some six months’ 
service, he had washed his trousers and hung them 
out to dry, along with several dozen pairs belonging 
to other men. Returning unexpectedly, he found 
an “ anoien ” calmly taking their trousers from the 
line. Jim collared him, and demanded what in the 
name of several improper people he meant by trying 
to steal his trousers. But the old Legionary was quite 
undisturbed, and very polite. 

“ Voyez, my good bleu," he explained to Jim, “ in 
the Legion one does not steal — one decorates oneself. 
If a comrade decorates himself with your trousers, 
eh bien, decorate yourself with somebody else’s ! How- 
ever, since you object to my having yours, these ones 
will do just as well ! ” 

He helped himself to another pair of trousers and 
departed with pained dignity, leaving Jim with his 
own trousers in his hand, and a confused feeling in his 
mind that he had behaved in a rather unneighbourly 
manner. 

Immediately after their arrival at Sidi-bel-Abbes, 
the recruits’ civilian clothes were taken from them, 
and they were “ served out ” with the uniform of the 
Legion. This consisted of a pair of red trousers, a 
blue tunic, with red epaulettes and green fringes, 
and a long blue-grey capote, or overcoat, which was 
generally worn. In fact, the tunic was only used 
for walking out purposes, and the capote and red 
trousers were the usual duty equipment of the Legionary 
during the cold weather. During the hot weather 
this was replaced by a greyish- white linen suit. 


58 


LOST SHEEP 


Lingard’s sensitive British cavalry soul was much 
exercised at first, owing to the fit of this equipment. 
There is a great difference between the meticulous 
care which is taken as to the fit of the British soldiers’ 
clothes and the manner in which the French soldier’s, 
be he Linesman or Legionary, are literally flung at him. 
If the equipment fits, so much the better, and if it 
does not — well, it is the soldier’s fault for not being 
made to fit it. The authorities are not going to trouble 
themselves. 

The only article of equipment of the Legion of which 
this does not hold good, Jim found to be the boots, 
which were fitted with extreme care to the recruit’s 
feet, and were of excellent quality. The reason of 
this is, that it would be an utter physical impossibility 
for the men of the Foreign Legion to make the long 
marches demanded of them in boots of an inferior 
quality, or which caused pain to the feet. No socks 
are worn in the Legion. Their place is taken by bands 
of greased linen bound round the feet, and known as 
“ chaussettes russes .” 

At Sidi-bel-Abb6s, Jim found himself posted to the 
2nd Company of the First Battalion, as were also 
Chuard and Desrolles. 

No. 2 Company was commanded by Captain Faes, 
an excellent officer, just and kindly in his dealings with 
his men, and in consequence adored by them. This 
officer carried the reputation of being recklessly brave 
among a regiment of recklessly brave men. He it 
was who, when his corporal, crazy-drunk with 
absinthe , was rushing about the camp at Ain Sefra 
with a loaded revolver in his hand, yelling for the blood 
of his captain, who had reproved him earlier in the day 
for some trivial fault, had walked coolly up to the 


THE STRANGE FOLD 


59 


madman and dared him to fire, and when he had not 
done so had said : “ Ah, perhaps you dare not fire 
when I am looking at you ! Shoot me in the back then, 
that will be easier i ” and had deliberately turned his 
back, afterwards taking the madman by the arm, and 
leading him to his own quarters, where he allowed him 
to sleep off the effects of the absinthe on his bed, and 
then sent him back to his duty as if nothing had 
happened. 

He it was who, in Tonkin, in a crazy canoe in mid- 
stream of a river, when accompanied by his wife and 
fifteen Legionaries, had been suddenly attacked by the 
enemy, who poured in a heavy fire from both banks. 
It was towards evening, and Captain Faes was smoking 
a cigarette and chatting on domestic affairs with his 
wife, when suddenly the storm of fire burst from the 
banks, and a soldier, throwing up his arms, fell back- 
wards on Madame Faes, reddening her white dress 
with the blood from a wound in the lungs. The 
captain merely remarked : " Ah, the enemy ! ” lit 
another cigarette, and stood up. Then with the air 
and voice of a man who gives instructions to his tailor : 
“ Seven men to the right, seven to the left — you 
rowers, put the pace on. You others, kneel, only 
fire when I give the order. Marie, lie down at the 
bottom of the canoe. Right rank, present — fire ! 
There’s no hurry, you men — aim carefully. Left 
rank — present — fire ! Marie, are you all right ? Well, 

as I was saying, the new servant Right rank, 

present — fire ! Keep down, Marie ! Don’t be afraid ; 
there is not the least danger. Steady, you rowers ! 
Left rank — present — no, they’ve cleared off. Cease 
fire ! Unload. Any wounded ? One dead — and you ? ” 
to a man, “ are you hit ? Hole in the shoulder ? 


6o LOST SHEEP 


Marie, dear, give me my medicine chest, please,” and 
he bandaged the man’s wound, proceeding with his 
cigarette and his conversation as if nothing whatever 
had happened to interrupt the tenor of the journey. 
There are many officers of this kind in the Foreign 
Legion, but Captain Faes was distinguished among 
all others by the absolute love of danger for its own sake. 
This alone, had he been hated by his men as he was 
loved, would have made them follow him through the 
gates of Hell. 

The other two officers were good types of the com- 
missioned ranks of the Foreign Legion. Lieutenant 
Laplote was a Frenchman of about forty, promoted 
from the ranks, a good and brave officer, with one 
failing, an unconquerable love for strong drink. The 
other, Lieutenant de Morsec, was a young man seconded 
from a Line regiment to the Foreign Legion, ostensibly 
because his religious opinions differed in several 
important details from those of the Government of 
the French Republic, but in reality because his taste 
in feminine beauty happened to coincide with that 
of an important member of the said Government. As 
a matter of fact, the aforesaid pillar of the Legislature, 
an elderly and somewhat obtuse person, happened to 
possess a young and very charming wife, who also 
happened to be a distant cousin of M. de Morsec's. 
The latter had used his cousinly privilege of calling 
on the lady, and at last had been discovered one after- 
noon by the outraged husband in the company of his 
spouse, in a position which no young gentleman who 
values his moral character in the slightest should adopt 
towards a pretty and somewhat flighty cousin — unless 
she happens to be also his wife. It was just after this 
incident that Morsec discovered that his prospects 


THE STRANGE FOLD 61 


were interfered with by his religious opinions, and 
applied for a transfer to the Foreign Legion, until, as 
he expressed it “ the dust blew over.” For the rest 
he was an amiable young man, who did his duty 
passably well, and never worried his men unnecessarily. 

Altogether, as things went in the Legion, No. 2 
Company was far from unfortunate in its officers. 
The fly in its ointment was its adjutant. This is a 
rank which has no counterpart in the British army. 
The adjutant in the French army is a warrant officer, 
who wears the same uniform as a second lieutenant, 
and who is often addressed by the men as " lieutenant ” 
but in reality comes between a second lieutenant and 
a sergeant-major. It will be readily understood that 
a man in this position holds enormous power, especially 
in the French army, where he has the right to inflict 
punishment with or without reason given. 

The adjutant in question, an Auvergnat named 
Vaubourg, had arrived at his rank simply through 
length of service. The men of his company behind 
his back called him as a pet name “ the Swine ” ; to 
his face he was called “ mon lieutenant ” or “ mon 
adjudant ” Not to put too fine a point on it, this man 
Vaubourg was a brute, a brute in all the acceptances, 
and all the worst construction of the word — a stupid, 
savage, mean animal. It was his greatest joy and 
pleasure to count up every evening the number of men 
he had punished during the day, and he was never so 
happy as when watching the men under punishment 
parade at the guard-room in the evening to answer their 
names. On these occasions Vaubourg’s soul would 
be filled with joy if he could honestly state that the 
greater part of these unfortunates were sent there by 
him. He would parade up and down the line grinning 


62 LOST SHEEP 


and rubbing his hands, and snarling threats of further 
and heavier punishments to come. He would even go 
to the length of rising at two or three o’clock in the 
morning, to go to the salle de police , or guard-room, 
to wake up the prisoners, ostensibly to search them for 
tobacco or other contraband goods, but in reality to 
break their short sleep. Yes, the Adjutant Vaubourg 
was a brute, but to be just, he was a brave brute, who 
showed no fear of men who, he knew, would have 
wished nothing better than to kill him painfully, and 
who had to his credit twenty years of spotless service, 
and seven campaigns. 

As a rule, Vaubourg was not an amusing person, 
but in one case he became so — very much against his 
will. This was in his celebrated campaign against 
Gontier and Chupan, two gentlemen who are to this 
day held in affectionate and admiring remembrance 
by the ist regiment etrangere. They were both 
Parisians, both from La Villette, and both were hopeless 
blackguards to the very bottom of their souls. They 
had met at Fort St. Jean on their way to the Legion, 
and, each recognising instantly a twin soul in the other, 
had struck hands almost before a word had passed 
between them. Their first exploit in the Legion had 
been to fall on, and hammer into insensibility, a vendor 
of fruit at a wayside station, whose ideas of commercial 
morality seemed to their ideas to be imperfect, and after 
that it became a legend in the ist etrangere that during 
the whole of their five years’ service in the Legion the 
pair never passed one single night out of the salle de 
police. I say the pair, for Gontier and Chupan might 
almost have been one individual. 

The two passed most of their service in the barrack 
squares, industriously sweeping the empty air with a 


THE STRANGE FOLD 63 


ragged broom. After every two or three strokes both 
would stop at exactly the same moment as if controlled 
by the same machinery, and would throw a benevolent 
glance on their comrades engaged in drill, etc. Then 
one would yawn, and make a languid remark to the 
other, to which his fidus Achates would reply as 
languidly. Then Vaubourg would appear from round 
some convenient corner and rush up to the pair, 
literally bursting with rage. 

“ What the devil are you about, you lazy swine,” 
he would yell. “ Take eight more days salle de police 
to teach you to sweep properly. Dieu de Dieu de Dieu 
de bon Dieu ! Will you get on with your work, you 
dogs ! My God Almighty, will you get on ! or by the 
off hind leg of the Lamb of God, I’ll see that you finish 
the rest of your service in Biribi ! ” 1 

Then Gontier would cast a mild and reflective glance 
at Chupan, and Chupan would give his friend an 
equally benevolent look, and they would go on with 
their “ work ” at exactly the same pace. 

Vaubourg would cheerfully have given a finger from 
his right hand to have caught either or both of them 
in an act of overt disobedience or insolence, but to the 
very last day of their service, when they were pursued 
to the very gate of the barracks by the yells and exe- 
crations of the adjutant, they never gave him a chance, 
at the same time contriving to exasperate him almost 
to madness. 

Once indeed, Vaubourg thought he had them. As 
has been already explained it was one of “ the Swine's ” 
pleasing customs to go round to the salle de police to 
search prisoners for tobacco, or to turn them out for 
extra work, sometimes at two or three o’clock in the 
1 Punishment battalions. 


64 LOST SHEEP 


morning. One morning, Gontier and Chupan were 
occupying their accustomed places, and having by 
this time, from long practice, got used to the plank, 
were peacefully slumbering, when they were awakened 
by Vaubourg, with a peremptory order to rise, and fetch 
water for the mules of the mounted company. 

Vaubourg, entering alone, with a rattle of keys, 
politely remarked. 

“You two damned blackguards, get up.” 

Gontier and Chupan each opened about half an eye, 
and, without stirring, each remarked to the other 
sleepily : 

“ What does he say ? ” 

“ I say, get up ! and be quick ! ” 

“ Oh,” with a yawn. “ Why ? ” 

“ To fetch water for the mules, you pigs ! Will 
you get up ? ” 

A burst of laughter from the two. 

“ Get up at three in the morning ? Not likely ! 
Think we’re fools ? ” 

“ Will — you — get — up ? ” yelled the adjutant. 

Gontier shrugged a disdainful shoulder. “ Oh, 
chuck the beggar out, Chupan,” he remarked wearily, 
“he’s keeping us awake ! ” 

Joy entered into the soul of “ the Swine.” At last 
his enemies were delivered into his hand. Then he said : 

“ Do I understand you two men refuse to obey my 
orders ? ” 

“ Yes ! ” was the answer; “ get out.” 

The adjutant turned to the door. “ Corporal of the 
guard ! ” he shouted ; and as the latter came running, 
Vaubourg turned once more to the two men. “ For 
the last time, you two,” he said solemnly, “ you refuse 
to get up ? ” 


THE STRANGE FOLD 


65 


But Gontier and Chupan were already on their feet, 
with a look of beautiful submission on their faces. 

“ Us, sir — no, sir ! We want to get up, sir ! We 
like it, sir ! The corporal is witness, sir ! And the 
poor mules want water, sir ! Yes, sir, immediately ! ” 

Vaubourg nearly dropped dead with rage, but he 
could do nothing. The only witness he had — the 
corporal, who loathed the adjutant — had seen and 
heard nothing but the most implicit obedience. 

Gontier and Chupan were exceptions, however. 
Very few men scored off the Adjutant Vaubourg. 
On the contrary. 

Vaubourg was a type. No self-respecting regiment 
in the French — or any other army — is without brutes 
like him dressed in a little brief authority, and how they 
use that authority confided to them in the name of 
discipline, let the punishment battalions of the French 
army, with their list of suicides, tell ! 


E 


CHAPTER VI 


AMONG THE LOST SHEEP 

J IM LINGARD opened the door of the barrack 
room, and entered. 

It was more than two years since he had joined 
the Legion, and the ex-subaltern of Hussars was 
hardly recognisable in the corporal of the legion 
etrangere. He was thinner, and a short dark beard 
covered the somewhat heavy jaw, but the great 
difference was in the eyes and bearing of the man. 
Lingard had been a smart young officer when in the 
British army ; that is, he had belonged to a class of 
which the members, in clothes, appearance, and manner, 
in every detail, in fact, except that of features, conform 
so closely to type, that they might almost be turned 
out of the same mould. The corporal of the Legion was 
a person so far removed from the ex- Hussar that they 
might have been two different men. The eyes were 
harder, with the reckless look in them of the Legionary 
who lives for the day, and who never knows, when 
he rises from his bed in the morning, if he will pass 
the next night in it or under the desert sand. 

Jim Lingard had not been unlucky in the Legion. 
His previous experience had stood him in good stead, 
and so far he had been fortunate enough not to arouse 
the enmity of “ the Swine.” The latter had certainly 
punished him on the slightest excuse since his arrival 
in the company, but that was the general lot, and 
66 


AMONG THE LOST SHEEP 


67 


Vaubourg had never given any sign of singling him out 
for special attention. When the adjutant honoured a 
man in this way, the lower regions at their worst would 
have seemed a pleasure resort, and the archfiend 
himself a kindly master, in comparison, to the victim. 
Almost since his arrival in the Legion, Vaubourg had 
picked out Chuard as a special object of dislike, and, 
during the time which the unfortunate man was under 
his control, never gave him a moment’s peace. Owing 
to his quick tongue, and a certain monkey-like fondness 
for practical joking, the Parisian had never received 
promotion. Both he and Desrolles certainly had arrived 
at the dignity of “ soldiers of the first class ” through 
sheer seniority, but as Desrolles had seen fit to celebrate 
the occasion in an evening devoted by himself and his 
friend to — as he termed it — wine, women, and song, 
the dignity of the pair had been transient, and had 
suffered an abrupt eclipse in the gloomy shades of 
la boite . 1 

However, on the company going south to Douargala 
to take their turn of duty, Vaubourg, who at the time 
was suffering from fever, had been left behind at 
head- quarters, with the instant result that “ crime ” 
in the company dropped fifty per cent. 

In the barrack room the men were passing their 
spare time according to their own pleasure. Some 
of them were engaged in the eternal astiquage — the 
cleaning of the black leather pouch and belt of the 
French soldier — some were sleeping, but the greater 
part were engaged in a game of Foutrou under the 
direction of Chuard. 

The men were seated side by side on a bench, to the 
number of ten or fifteen, with their arms folded. In 
1 Cells. 


68 


LOST SHEEP 


front of them was another bench, and at the end of 
this, forming with the other two three sides of a square, 
was another, on which reposed in state Monsieur 
Lefoutrou — or, in plain English, Mr. Whack. This 
gentleman was represented by a handkerchief twisted 
and knotted, until it was almost of the hardness of 
a bar of iron. A man was engaged in dealing out 
cards from a filthy old pack on the bench in front 
of each player, but as Jim entered Chuard rose to 
his feet and remarked : 

“ Halt ! Stop the game ! By order of the king, I 
take down M. Lefoutrou ! ” Then turning to the man 
next him — one Roux — he continued, “ Your hand, 
criminal, if you please ! ” Roux tendered an enormous 
paw on which he received, without visible emotion, 
three terrific blows of M. Lefoutrou delivered with 
Chuard’ s full strength, accompanied by the remark, 
" Wrong done, wrong to pay for ! Do you want to 
know what ? ” 

With extreme politeness Roux answered, “ Yes, 
Monsieur, I wish to know what fault I have committed.” 

As politely Chuard replied, “ Monsieur, when the 
corporal entered the room you raised your eyes. M. 
Lefoutrou does not like attention to be paid to anyone 
except himself. Are you satisfied ? ” 

Roux bowed solemnly, and remarked, “ Quite, 
Monsieur” — and then in a loud voice — “ let the 
game go on. By order of the king, put M. Lefoutrou 
back.” 

Chuard placed M. Lefoutrou on his bench, but before 
a card could be dealt Roux cried, “ Halt ! Stop the 
game ! By order of the king I take down M. Lefoutrou. 
Then to Chuard sternly, “ Your hand, criminal ! ” 
Chuard tendered his hand to receive the three blows 


AMONG THE LOST SHEEP 


69 


he had given, with interest added, and then Roux 
remarked according to formula : “ Wrong done, 

wrong to pay for ! Do you want to know what ? ” 

“ If you please, Monsieur,” returned Chuard. 

“ Well,” replied Roux, “ when you were putting 
M. Lefoutrou back in his place, I noticed that you 
carried him head downwards. M. Lefoutrou does 
not like to be carried head down. It drives the blood 
to his head, and makes his face flush ! Are you 
satisfied ? ” 

Chuard bowed and professed himself so, and M. 
Lefoutrou was put back in his place, only to be taken 
down again immediately. 

It appeared that he suffered much from indigestion, 
and that in putting him in his place Roux had pressed 
violently on his stomach, a proceeding which so dis- 
tressed the worthy gentleman that an immediate 
exercise of his functions was necessary to restore him 
to his normal health. As a matter of fact, he was 
never in his place for more than a few seconds at a 
time. M. Lefoutrou was so sensitive — not to say 
ticklish — on the subject of his personal dignity, allowing 
nobody to laugh or even smile in his august presence, 
that on one pretence or another he was always in 
action. The sport consists, under the pretext of a 
game of cards — which, owing to the extreme touchi- 
ness of M. Lefoutrou, can never be finished, or even 
begun properly — in the players giving each other as 
many and as hard blows as possible. The first time 
that Jim had played Foutrou he had had his finger 
almost broken by the outraged gentleman. By a 
curious coincidence, this had also happened to be the 
last time on which he had indulged in this pleasing 
pastime. 


LOST SHEEP 


Jim watched the game for a few minutes, and then 
proceeded to perform the duty for which he had 
entered. 

“ Chuard, Roux, Schneider,” he read from a list, 
“ guard to-night. You others are wanted for corvee . 1 
Look sharp, now ! M. Lefoutrou can look after him- 
self for a bit ! ” 

Then after the custom of the Legion, a chorus of 
protest was heard. “ Bon Dieu, guard again ! What a 
life ! Only two nights in bed ! ” “ Corporal, I was on 

corvee this morning ! ” “ Ah ! bon sang de sort ! 

one would be better in Biribi than in this merde of a 
Legion ! Dieu de Dieu de sort ! Merde ! ” 

Jim was used to this. He knew that it was strictly 
according to custom and really meant nothing. Grumb- 
ling to the soldier, whether French or English, is his 
most dearly prized privilege, and softens the rigour 
of many an unpleasant task. Lingard grinned 
tolerantly. 

“ You’d better get a move on,” he remarked. “ Some- 
body has to do the work, and it’s no use grousing. 
You know that as well as I do. If you want to grouse, 
wait until we get back to Sidi-bel- Abbes next month 
and get under the adjutant again ! Will you men get 
a move on you, or do some of you want a couple of 
days in la boite to smarten you up ? ” 

The men were getting into their fatigue clothing, 
and Roux was bending over his bed, when Chuard, 
probably thinking that M. Lefoutrou had not had 
quite enough exercise that day to keep him in condition, 
picked him up from his place, and applied him with 
his full force to the curved sedential of his unsuspecting 
comrade. Roux straightened himself with a strangled 
1 Fatigue. 


AMONG THE LOST SHEEP 


7i 


yelp, and then ejaculating, “ Sale cochon ! ” hurled 
himself on Chuard. In the struggle a bed was knocked 
down and the tw r o men went over it, forming a group 
on the floor in which it was difficult to distinguish 
which was bed, and which were struggling men. 

It was just at this juncture that Lieutenant Laplote 
made his irruption into the room. Now, when he was 
sober. Lieutenant Laplote was one of the mildest and 
most inoffensive men who ever wore a sword. Un- 
fortunately for every one concerned he very seldom 
was sober, not oftener, on an average, than one day in 
seven. The other six days he passed in a state of 
drunkenness which made its effects felt to the very 
furthest comers of the company. The men could 
tell from the very sound of his voice three rooms 
away what state he was in, and if it was at all raised 
there would be a hurried whisper of “ For God’s sake 
get the room straight ! The lieutenant has had his 
whack to-day. V’la. quelquun pour la boite ” — an 
intelligent anticipation which was invariably well 
founded. 

When sober, Laplote would enter a room blinking 
mildly and would give the order to stand at ease 
almost before the room corporal had called " attention.” 
If he happened to see a kit or bed-cot badly arranged, he 
would either make no remark, or would say, “Now 
my lad, you know that kit is very badly arranged. 
You really must take more care, you know ! If you 
don’t you will only get into trouble yourself, and get 
the corporal into trouble as well — and I’m sure you 
don’t want to do that. Try and take a little more 
trouble, like a good fellow ! ” 

When the lieutenant was drunk, however, it was 
quite different. On these occasions he would enter 


72 LOST SHEEP 


the room like a whirlwind, his kepi pulled well 
down over his eyes, his sword clanking, and after 
one furious glance at everything and everybody in 
sight, would begin : 

“ What a room ! What a set of men — or things 
that call themselves men ! I call them pigs ! — 
pigs ! — pigs ! Nom de Dieu, this must be put a 
stop to ! Every damned one of you men sleep in 
la boite to-night ! ” During this the men would be 
standing to attention at the foot of their cots, waiting 
for the order to stand at ease — which never came. Then 
Laplote would turn on the room corporal and begin 
again. “ I ask le bon Dieu what have I ever done to 
Him that He should give me an idiot like you for a 
corporal ! Aren’t you damned well ashamed of this 
room. Room ? It isn’t a room, it’s a damned sty ! 
Will you answer me? ” When the corporal opened 
his mouth there would be another outburst from the 
lieutenant. “ Sacre nom de nom de bon Dieu de sort ! 
Will you be silent ? Silence ! Do you hear, corporal ? 
You will do ten days’ arrest for this. Ten days, you 
understand ? ” and he would depart in the same 
fashion as he had entered, leaving behind him as he 
retreated echoes of, “ Ten days ! ” 

The great beauty of Lieutenant Laplote’s punishments 
was, that sometimes he would add two men’s punish- 
ments together in the livre de punitions and visit 
the total amount on the head of one unfortunate, 
or he might forget all about it, and never enter it at 
all In this way, a pleasing element of uncertainty 
was introduced which added greatly to the charm of 
life in No. 2 Company s 

Lieutenant Laplote was a lonely man without any 
family. He passed his time, when not on duty, at Sidi- 


AMONG THE LOST SHEEP 


73 


bel- Abbes, sitting in a remote corner of a small cafe, 
drinking glass after glass of absinthe , neither reading 
nor speaking to anyone. To give the lieutenant 
his due, it must be stated that, no matter how 
drunk he might be, he never for one instant lost the 
respect which he owed to his rank and uniform. He 
would walk through the town so full of absinthe that 
he was to all intents and purposes insane, but he never 
failed to give a salute to a superior, or to return a 
soldier’s one punctiliously. Nor had anyone ever 
seen him stagger. Also it must be stated that, when 
on active service and away from drink, he was a good, 
brave and kind officer, risking his life freely, and 
extremely solicitous for the comfort of his men. 

Some years before this history opens he had married, 
during a fit of drunkenness, a young lady whose char- 
acter it would have been gross flattery to call doubtful. 
She repaid this honour by distributing her favours 
broadcast among the men of the company. One night, 
however, Laplote returned unexpectedly, and found 
her, in an extreme state of deshabilU, in the com- 
pany of his orderly. If the lieutenant had been sober, 
he would probably have put up with this as he had 
put up with other things. Luckily for himself, 
on this occasion, happening to be drunk, he took 
energetic steps, and turned the lady into the street 
just as she was. Fortunately it was an extremely 
hot night, and beyond the shock to her modesty and 
to that of the few passers-by little harm was done. 
Then he awarded his orderly thirty days of prison 
for " Being absent from barracks, and insufficiently 
clothed while in town ! ” 

As the lieutenant entered the room it was perfectly 
obvious that on this occasion he was anything but 


74 


LOST SHEEP 


sober. His kepi was pulled down over his eyes, his 
face was the peculiar greenish white colour of the 
habitual absinthe drinker, and he was evidently in a 
rather worse temper than usual. He cast one look at 
the two struggling men on the floor, and at the over- 
turned bed. Then he turned on Lingard. 

“ Ah, corporal,” he began in a soft and silky voice, 
“ I must congratulate you on the discipline you keep in 
your room ! Creditable — very creditable indeed, I must 
say.” Then with a roar : " What is this, place — a 
barrack room or a bordel ? Will you answer me, 
imbecile ? Nom de Dieu, then, will you reply ? Is 
it that you are dumb as a pig as well as stupid as 
one ! ” 

Jim lifted his hand in salute, “Mon lieutenant ,” 
he began, but was cut short by another roar of fury. 

“ Silence, corporal ! ” shouted the lieutenant, 
“ Nombril de Belzebuth , will you keep silence when I 
address you ! Will you or will you not ? Or perhaps 
you would like to try Biribi for a change. You will do 
me five days for not keeping proper order in your 
room. Do you understand ? ” 

Lingard saluted again. “Yes, mon lieutenant ,” he 
answered. 

Laplote’s eyes protruded dangerously, “ What ! ” 
he shouted, “ you will answer, will you ! You will 
disobey your officer’s express orders ! You will take 
another two days for continuous chattering in spite 
of warnings, and ” — here he turned suddenly on 
Chuard and Roux, who had discreetly removed them- 
selves as far as possible from him — “ you two dr dies 
will take another seven days each, to keep your 
corporal company. I’ll keep discipline in this com- 
pany if I have to send every man in it to Biribi ! ” 


AMONG THE LOST SHEEP 


75 


Then his attention wandered, and he pounced on a 
kit which was not as well packed as it might have 
been. 

“ Call that a charge ? ” he snarled, “ it looks more 
like a cocotte's clothes in the morning. Here you ” 
— to the owner — " stand away from it ! ” He seized 
the kit, and with the swift, practised hands of the old 
soldier in a few rapid movements altered it according 
to regulation. 

“ There,” he grunted, “ that’s how we used to pack 
our charge when I was a Legionary. But we had men 
in the regiment then — not stable sweepings, as we have 
now.” Then to Jim : “ Corporal, see that your 

men’s kits are properly packed in future, or, by God, 
I’ll have those stripes off your arm, and yourself in 
Biribi.” 

He turned to leave the room, but halted at the door 
and turned. “ I came here,” he remarked, with digni- 
fied calm, “ to warn you men that next week we change 
garrison to Ain Sefra, instead of going back to Sidi-bel- 
Abbes. I am sure you will all be glad to hear that the 
Adjutant Vaubourg, having completely recovered his 
health, will join us there ! ” 

He closed the door gently, and left the room, leaving 
the men almost speechless. It was quite a minute 
before anyone spoke, but when the men found their 
tongues, their comments left nothing to be desired, 
either in strength or pungency. 

“ Dieu de Dieu ! ” 

“ Ah, malheur de Dieu vrai ! ” 

" Caraja ! ” 

“ Bougre d’une vache ! ” 

“Oh! la Id. ! quel metier ! ” 

These were some of the comments on the lieutenant’s 


76 LOST SHEEP 


piece of news. It remained for Chuard, sitting on his 
bed with his head between his hands, to sum up his 
own and his comrade’s feelings in one word — that of 
Cambronne when summoned to surrender, amid the 
wreck of his guns at Waterloo. 


CHAPTER VII 


IN THE “ VILLAGE NEGRE ” OF AIN SEFRA 

N O. 2 Company had been at Ain Sefra for some 
time, and was feeling anything but contented 
with itself. For the past two months, pun- 
ishment — always frequent in the Legion — had almost 
doubled itself. Vaubourg had arrived from Sidi-bel- 
Abbes completely restored to health, and with a three 
months 1 arrears of forced abstention from “disci- 
pline” to make up — which he proceeded to do with 
ardour. 

No one — non-commissioned officer or private — 
escaped. One great difference between the French and 
English armies lies in the system of punishment in 
vogue in the two. In the English army a non-com- 
missioned officer can only be punished by reduction of 
his rank, or after reduction. In the French army a 
non-commissioned officer may be punished in exactly 
the same way as a private and still retain his rank, 
and with it his right to punish his own inferiors accord- 
ing to his pleasure, within limits. A sergeant may 
punish a man by three days’ salle de police without 
giving any reason whatever. If the reason or motif 
is given in the livre de partitions, the sentence is almost 
certain to be increased by the officer commanding the 
company, and also by the colonel, so that a punish- 
ment which originally started as three days’ salle de 
77 


78 LOST SHEEP 


police may, and very often does, finish as thirty or 
sixty days’ prison. 

This right to punish enjoyed by the non-commissioned 
officers of the French army goes far to explain the 
appalling number of punishments inflicted, especi- 
ally as many officers gauge a non-commissioned 
officer’s worth and zeal by the number of these 
inflicted by him on the men of his company or 
squadron. 

Ain Sefra, during the first few months of No. 2 
Company’s arrival there, was a simple Gehenna to the 
men. Setting aside the fact that “ the Swine ” was 
back, and avid to discover wrongdoers, Lieutenant 
Laplote had discovered a new and virulent brand of 
absinthe and his excursions into the rooms were 
ceaseless. The men took this state of affairs very calmly, 
on the whole, for the first couple of months. They 
cursed and swore a good deal, consigning the Legion 
and everything connected with it to the nethermost 
pit, but the growlings always wound up with the 
formula, “ Que voulez vous ? Cest la legion ! ” But 
at last things got to such a pass that Vaubourg 
received a lesson which had the effect of very con- 
siderably limiting his activities in this direction for 
a time. 

And there were other miseries. It was the hot 
weather. The sun beat down day after day from a 
brazen sky, and the nights were nearly as hot as the 
days. The unfortunates condemned to the salle de 
police spent their nights sweating and gasping in its 
stifling cell, of which Vaubourg would take good care 
every evening that its one window was tightly closed. 
In the daytime Vaubourg himself would generally 
take the peloton de chasse, or punishment squad — not 


IN THE " VILLAGE NEGRE ” 


with the benevolent intention of relieving the sergeants 
and corporals from an irksome duty, but from plain 
love of cruelty. He would halt his squad — dressed in 
full marching order — in a temperature of no° in the 
shade, right opposite a whitewashed wall reflecting 
the rays of the Algerian sun, which roasted their 
eyeballs, while at the same time it smote down 
and grilled their necks. Then he would give them 
manual exercise “ by numbers,” keeping them in 
the most constrained positions for five minutes at a 
time, while he stood in the shade and smoked a reflec- 
tive cigarette. Before a man came on the punishment 
parade “ the Swine ” would open his tunic to see that 
his underclothing was according to regulation and that 
the blue cotton cravat was wound twice around his 
neck, and with the regulation degree of tightness. 
The least infraction of regulations on these points led 
to extra and savage punishments. Two men were 
struck by the sun during peloton de chasse, but this 
brute gloried in having " given them something to 
remember,” and redoubled his attentions to the 
others. 

Then the swearing ceased in the rooms and men 
began to brood in corners, or to talk quietly in groups. 
At last a resolution was come to — Vaubourg must 
be put out of the way. But how ? At last a scheme 
was hatched. One night, when he was taking the 
rounds, as he was passing a barrack-room, “ the Swine ” 
heard a tremendous noise inside — men shouting, 
cheering, and laughing. If Vaubourg had listened a 
little more carefully it might have struck him that 
the laughter was hardly natural, but the only thing 
which penetrated to his mind was that here was an 
infraction of rules, and an occasion for inflicting the 


8o LOST SHEEP 


punishment which his soul loved. He hurled himself 
at the door like a charging bull, intent on taking the 
men inside by surprise. But it was he himself who 
got the surprise. As he entered the door the lights 
were extinguished, and with a simultaneous yell of 
“ Kill him ! ” the men inside threw themselves on him. 
They were stripped stark naked in order that no mark 
on their clothes might betray them, and they were 
armed with their Lebel bayonets. Vaubourg was no 
coward. He had given proofs of that often enough, 
but the sight of the naked, yelling men with the steel 
in their hands, dimly seen by the light of the lantern 
he carried, was too much for his nerves, and he turned 
and fled. It was simply and solely owing to his swiftness 
of foot that he escaped being cut to pieces by the 
infuriated company. 

As Vaubourg’s flying footsteps died away the 
men halted and looked at each other, and then one 
said, “No luck ! The devil has got clean away. 
Now comes the reckoning. The guard will be here 
in a minute. This means Biribi for all of us, mes 
gars 

He was mistaken. That night Vaubourg reported 
“ nothing unusual,” and for days afterwards the men 
awaited the inquiry which never came. But from 
that night on the peloton de chasse was less frequent, 
and the punishments less heavy. Vaubourg’s con- 
science was non-existent and therefore impossible to 
touch, but the escape he had had of being pulled 
down and hacked to pieces had shaken his nerve, 
and the men of No. 2 Company enjoyed a respite for a 
time. 

Ain Sefra, as a town, was beneath contempt, con- 
sisting as it did mainly of the fort and a few scattered 


IN THE “VILLAGE N&GRE ” 81 


houses, mostly enclosed and roughly fortified. This 
was very necessary. Ain Sefra is on the very edge 
of the desert and therefore within easy reach of Touareg 
raiding parties. Three times within the last fifteen 
years had raids in force been delivered on the town, 
and each time the raiders, if not entirely successful, 
had got clear away into the desert, carrying with them 
shrieking women, and leaving behind them burning 
houses and dead men. The strategic importance of 
the place lies in its central position, for it forms the 
centre of the web of outposts which France has flung 
along the fringe of the desert. Beside the houses and 
the fort, there is nothing whatever except a few dozen 
palm-trees and the “ Village Negre,” or native quarter, 
which every military post in Algeria possesses : a 
huddle of foul huts inhabited by Arab and half-caste 
women, and the Spanish Jews, who hang like jackals 
to the flanks of the Legion, and will persist in doing so 
as long as the Legionary continues — as he will do — to 
risk six months’ prison for selling articles of his equip- 
ment to those scoundrels for a few pence in order to 
satisfy his perennial thirst. 

To the ordinary mind a place of this kind would be 
one to avoid at all hazards, but, on the southern stations 
of the Legion, the appalling monotony of life in barracks 
is such that the men welcome distraction of any kind 
whatever, and will run any risks to get it. Unspeak- 
ably foul and dirty as the Village Negre is, at least the 
Legionaries can find liquor and women of a kind there, 
and except in the larger towns their visits are winked 
at. Better a Legionary ruined in health for life, or 
even occasionally stabbed in the back, than a general 
outbreak of cafard in barracks, with its results, 
and headlines in the German papers. The Legionary 

F 


82 LOST SHEEP 


is a peculiar person, and more than apt to take his 
pleasures in a peculiar way and to resent any attempt 
to interfere with them. 

Lingard one evening had dressed himself, and had 
gone alone into the town. This was a practice which 
was frowned on by the authorities — if not absolutely 
forbidden — owing to its danger. A prowling Arab 
will not interfere with two Legionaries, but, given the 
opportunity, he will be only too glad of attempting 
to stab a solitary man in the back for the sake of his 
bayonet and sash. Jim had made arrangements 
to go out with another corporal, but the latter had 
during the day attracted the notice of Vaubourg, 
with the usual result. Lingard had asked two or three 
other sous-offs to come with him, but for one cause or 
another had been refused, and so found himself faced 
with the alternative of spending an evening in the fort, 
or going alone. The sick disgust of the Legionary with 
his normal surroundings was on him with its full force ; 
and, forbidden by the iron discipline of the Legion to 
be seen walking with a private, he decided on taking 
the risk, and going alone. 

It was about eight o’clock on a summer’s evening, 
and Jim walked through the “ town ” and sat down 
under a palm-tree, watching the gorgeous Algerian 
sunset, as it flamed scarlet, orange, purple and pink 
over the desert. To the left stood a few palm-trees, 
looking almost as if they had been cut out of black 
cardboard, and stuck against the blazing sky. In 
front of him stretched the desert, for the moment 
almost as red as the sky, and to the right were the black 
figures of some Arabs going through their evening 
devotions, and looking like the figures in a shadow 
play. 


IN THE “VILLAGE NfcGRE ” 


83 


Jim Lingard’s thoughts were very bitter as he 
sucked at his rank cigarette. What a fool he had 
been — what an accursed fool ever to come to this 
triply accursed Legion. He had thought it would be 
at least a man’s life, but it was that of a dog — a life 
that no dog would put up with. Adventure ? 
Glory ? What adventure or glory was there to be 
found in a stinking hole like Ain Sefra ? The very 
Arabs at their prayers there were better off than he 
was. At least they had something to believe in and 
had never known anything better than this life ; 
and they were their own masters, without brutes 
like Laplote and Vaubourg over them. Damn — and 
damn — and damn the Legion, and everything con- 
nected with it ! And, especially and in particular, 
damn Jim Lingard for ever having been fool enough 
to go near it. 

Jim recognised that the cafard — the terrible insane 
depression of the Legionary — was taking hold of him, 
and he knew, by what he had seen, what that might 
lead to unless it was fought down. With a final 
comprehensive curse at himself and his surroundings, 
he rose, hitched his bayonet round, so that in case of 
need it might be ready for a quick draw, and turned 
off into the Village Negre. Even if he did get into 
trouble there, it would be a change ; if he did happen 
to get his throat cut or a knife in his back, he would 
be no great loss to anyone ; and, wherever he might 
find himself subsequently, at least neither Laplote nor 
Vaubourg would be there. In any case, Jim had been 
long enough in the Legion to feel the Legionary’s 
supreme confidence of being perfectly capable of 
looking after himself under any conceivable circum- 
stances which might arise. 


84 LOST SHEEP 


The Village Negre, as usual, was just beginning to 
wake up after sunset. In the daytime it was a con- 
glomeration of filthy huts, hermetically sealed, and 
which, for any sign of life about them, might be ten- 
anted by corpses, but with sunset it woke to its foul 
life. Lights appeared in its hovels, and figures 
appeared at their doors, while others, white-robed and 
furtive, flitted in and out. Jim walked up the narrow, 
tortuous street and then stopped before a hovel a little 
larger and more pretentious than the rest, but, if any- 
thing, a little dirtier. He knocked twice, then once, 
and after a moment or two the door opened, and 
he entered. 

The stench of the place took him by the throat. It 
was a mixture of unwashed humanity and the smoke 
from a fire of camels’ dung, which smouldered in the 
centre ; mixed with these was another peculiar, 
acrid smell which Jim knew well. It was that of 
hashish, the drug which is to Algeria what opium is to 
China, and the smell of which strikes the olfactory 
nerve of the European in varying density from Oran 
to the Persian Gulf. 

Seated round the fire and, to all appearance, not in 
the least incommoded by the smoke which was making 
Jim’s eyes water to such an extent that he could hardly 
see, were two or three figures which might have been 
either male or female, but which looked more like 
bundles of dirty linen than anything else. On an 
angareb, or native bedstead, in a corner of the room, 
was stretched at full length, with her brawny arms 
folded behind her head, a huge negress. In the dim 
light of the solitary lamp which struggled to light the 
place she looked like a statue carved from black basalt, 
showing as she did no sign of life except the regular 


IN THE “VILLAGE NilGRE ” 


85 


heave and fall of her body from her breathing, and 
an occasional flash of white eyeballs or teeth. The 
place looked and smelt like an ante-chamber of 
the infernal regions, with a party of damned souls 
waiting their turn for torture, and a black fiend 
keeping an eye on them to see that they did 
not escape. In reality, as places in the Village 
Negre went, it was comparatively respectable. It 
was kept by an old Frenchwoman known as Mere 
Julie, who supplied dubious liquors, and other 
commodities of the nature of which there was no 
doubt at all, on a strictly cash basis to men of 
the garrison. 

As Jim advanced to the fire, one of the shrouded 
figures rose and threw back the cloak which covered its 
head, revealing the face — yellow, and horribly marked 
with small-pox — of an old woman. The teeth were 
mostly absent, but the eyes were large, dark and 
bright, and full of intelligence. This was Madame 
Julie, the proprietress. 

“ He Men," she remarked, “ one of my boys to see 
the old woman ! ” Then peering forward, and noticing 
the stripes on Lingard’s sleeve, she continued, “ and 
a corporal too ! Well, M. le caporal, what can Mere 
Julie do for you to-night. Is it a glass of bapedi 1 

or absinthe, or is it ?” and she jerked her head 

towards the corner. 

Jim laughed. “Neither, ma mere," he said; “just 
the pleasure of a chat with you, and a glass of wine if 
you have one.” 

Mere Julie looked at him sharply. “ Have you any 
money ? ” she remarked drily. “ We want no empty 
pockets here ! ” 


Fig-spirit. 


86 


LOST SHEE^ 


Jim took out a franc piece and tossed it on the table. 

“That’s the lot,” he said, “money macache . 1 Is 
that kif-kif 2 for a bottle and a packet of cigarettes ? ” 

The old woman took up the coin, and rang it two 
or three times on the table, finally biting it with her 
blackened teeth, and then bestowing it in some mys- 
terious recess on her person. “ Kif-kif,” she responded, 
“ one bottle — and a packet of cigarettes — no more — 
convenu ? ” 

Jim nodded. “ Convenu,” he answered. 

The old woman produced a stool and motioned him 
to it. 

“ Wait here a moment,’’ she said, “ while I fetch the 
wine.” 

Jim seated himself on the stool and waited. After 
a few minutes Mere Julie returned, and, tossing him 
a paper packet of cigarettes, proceeded to uncork 
a bottle of wine. Then she placed the bottle and a 
dirty glass in front of her customer, and turned to go, 
but Jim stopped her. “ Will you share my bottle, 
madame,” he said. “ As you know, in the Legion we 
do not faire suisse, 3 and as I have not a comrade with 


The old woman grinned. “ But yes,” she said, 
“ with pleasure. I know that in the Legion one never 
drinks alone — and besides that, in the Village Negre 
it is just as well to make the host taste the drink first ! 
Not that there is any danger here. Mere Julie does 
not rob her boys ! ” 

Jim smiled rather bitterly. “ It would not be easy,” 
he returned. “ Not that you would be capable of such 
an infamy, madame — but to rob a legionnaire! It 
would be to squeeze blood from a stone, n’est-ce pas ? ” 
1 Finished. * All right. * Drink alone. 


IN THE “VILLAGE N&GRE ” 


87 


The old woman shrugged her shoulders. “ Perhaps,” 
she said indifferently, “ and perhaps not. In the 
Legion all things are possible. N’importe. Now, tell 
me why did you come here to-night ? 

" I don't know,” returned Jim. “ To kill time, and 
get away from the fort, I suppose. If one stays too 
long there one gets cafard, and that is bad, but where 
else is one to go ? ” 

Mere Julie cackled with laughter. " Where indeed ? ” 
she said. “ Still, there is one place in Ain Sefra where 
a beau garqon like you would be better employed than 
talking to Mere Julie. Ohe, caporal, a face! and a 
figure ! and red lips ! As I had once ! ” 

Jim looked at her. 

" Oh ! ” he said. “ And where may all these be 
found ? ” 

The old woman extended her hand. 

“ Twenty sous,” she suggested, but Jim shook his 
head. 

“ Money macache,” he said again. “ Voyons, M&re 
Julie, tell me, and I will give you two francs next time 
I come — if what you say is true ! ” 

The old woman leant forward and whispered. " The 
house with the red shutters,” she said. “ Go there 
and try your luck. He is away. Mind, two francs ! ” 

Jim rose and buckled his belt. Here at last was the 
chance of a little excitement. 

“ All right,” he said, “ two francs — if you are not 
fooling me ! Bon soir, Mere Julie.” 

He turned and left the hut, and leaving the Village 
Negre, turned towards the scattered houses near the 
fort, in search of whatever adventure Providence might 
send him. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 

A S he left the Village Negre Jim Lingard’s step 
took on a new elasticity. Even if there was 
only a substratum of truth in what Mere Julie 
had told him, at least there was the chance of 
a few minutes’ excitement in indulging the pleasures 
of imagination. He knew the house mentioned quite 
well by sight, but had never been near it. As he 
walked along, he felt a certain amount of mild surprise 
at Mere Julie’s unwonted communicativeness, but 
concluded that that lady must have had some reason 
of her own. The reputation Mere Julie held was not 
precisely that of an open-handed philanthropist ; 
indeed quite the contrary. While never known to 
have robbed a Legionary, she was well known to 
exact the uttermost farthing for any services required 
of her, and Jim was rather at a loss to account for her 
unsought information, and still more for the surprising 
ease with which she had allowed the payment to 
stand over until a future occasion — cash in advance 
being her invariable rule. 

However, Lingard had not been a young gentleman 
to trouble himself much about other people’s motives 
at any time, and was still less so after almost three 
years’ service in the Legion. He was quite prepared 
to take any goods the gods might send him and enjoy 
88 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 89 


them as long as they might last, leaving any question 
of the motives of the persons who had put the said 
goods in his way, and any consequences which might 
accrue from the enjoyment of them, to take care of 
themselves until the time came for payment. 

The Legionary can never say with any certainty 
where he may be in the course of any day. He may 
rise hale and well in the morning and be under the 
desert sand by night, and so drinks any cup that is 
offered to him to the dregs, without thinking of conse- 
quences. If these latter are unpleasant, so much the 
worse, but according to his philosophy there is always 
the chance of his being in another world before the 
time for payment for past pleasure comes. 

By this time Jim had arrived quite close to the house 
which Mere Julie had told him of. Climbing the mud 
wall which surrounded it, he slipped through the ragged, 
untidy garden, and found himself close to the veranda. 
The house was like most of its kind in Algeria : square, 
with a flat-topped roof, and a veranda running round 
it. The place was in darkness, with the exception 
of one window, and Jim, approaching silently as close 
as he could to it, looked in. There were two people 
inside, evidently, by their gestures, engaged in a heated 
argument. One was a woman. She was in Arab 
dress, but without the veil, and very good to look on. 
She was tall — nearly as tall as Jim himself — and slim 
without being thin. She was dark with the darkness 
of the South, but Jim knew at a glance that she was 
no Arab woman. She stood and faced the man she 
was speaking to, as one who gives orders which they 
expect to be obeyed, and not like an Arab woman who 
has been a man’s possession from her childhood. Jim 
had seen many women — some of them with a name for 


go LOST SHEEP 


beauty — but he had never seen one to approach this 
one. Her black hair was dressed high on her head, and 
the bracelets on her bare arms clinked as she emphasised 
her remarks with swift expressive gestures. 

The man had his back turned to Jim. The window 
was open, but the pair were speaking Arabic, and 
Lingard could understand very little of what was being 
said. As far as he could make out the woman, or 
rather girl, was vehemently urging some course on the 
man, and the latter was explaining and excusing his 
failure to carry it out. Twice Jim heard him say, 
“Not yet,” and twice the woman bore him down with 
a scornful storm of words. It was quite evident that 
the man was not in the least convinced, but was agree- 
ing, or pretending to agree with the girl, in order to 
quieten her. 

Then he turned to the window for a moment and, 
with an impatient gesture, pushed back the haik from 
his forehead. Jim stared, and then gasped. Beyond 
any possibility of a doubt it was the man whom he 
had saved from the Apaches’ knives in Paris — Hassan 
Ali. 

Jim almost whistled aloud. What on earth was 
Hassan Ali doing in Ain Sefra, and what was a woman 
like that doing there either ? Jim could not place 
her. Arab she certainly was not, and European she 
did not seem to be. Also, in the East, women who 
carry themselves like queens and fling curt orders 
to men are by no means common. Jim Lingard 
forgot that he was a corporal in the Legion, forgot 
that he was in a place where he had absolutely no 
business to be, and that he was eavesdropping, and bent 
closer to the window. 

After nearly three years in Algeria he had a fair 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 


9i 


knowledge of the local Arabic, but the language which 
the two were talking seemed to be of another kind. 
Arabic of a sort it certainly was, for every now and 
then, in the flood of words, he could distinguish a 
familiar one, but it lacked the thick throatiness of the 
Algerian accent. Jim was tired of the conversation, 
which he was quite unable to follow intelligently, but 
his interest in the girl was unabated. He could not 
understand the source of Mere Julie’s information. 
How on earth CQuld an old hag like her know of, or 
have anything to do with, a girl like this. With the 
subtle affinity which gentle blood has for gentle blood 
the world over, Jim recognised that the girl before 
him — whether European or not — was an aristocrat 
of the aristocrats, and had been used to command all 
her life. It was nearly three years since Jim Lingard 
had seen a woman of his own class, and quite apart 
from the curiosity which he felt regarding Hassan 
Ali, this girl’s mere presence kept him rooted like a 
stone in the garden. For the moment he was no longer 
Corporal Lingard of the Legion, and a social outcast, 
but Lieutenant Lingard of the 31st Hussars, and 
the equal of any man or woman on the face of the 
earth. 

He peered forward again. Then something dark 
came over his eyes, something else which hurt abomin- 
ably was forced into his mouth, his feet were plucked 
from under him, and some one knelt heavily on 
him and bound his hands behind his back. As he 
twisted and struggled, something fell heavily on his 
head behind the ear. He saw a blaze of coloured fire, 
felt a sickish, sweetish feeling at the back of his throat, 
and then — nothing. 

When Jim Lingard came to himself again, the first 


92 


LOST SHEEP 


thing he was conscious of was a racking headache, 
and the second was that his jaws were propped apart, 
so that he could not even groan ; and, when he tried 
to raise his hand to remove the obstruction, he also 
found that he was bound hand and foot. He was 
lying on his back in a corner of a room, and seated by 
him on the floor was a huge negro, with a flissa, or 
yataghan, in his hand. Jim moved his head, and 
tried to make a sound, but without result. The 
negro turned to him, and raised the flissa threateningly ; 
then, turning towards some one in the corner, he poured 
out a torrent of sounds, which were not words, but 
rather grunts and clicks, and with another threatening 
gesture towards Jim, re-seated himself. 

The man whose attention he had called rose leisurely, 
walked over to Jim, and looked down on him for a 
moment. Then he said in excellent French, “ Eh bien , 
M. le legionnaire ! Now you see what curiosity leads 
to ! May I inquire what brought you here, and what 
you expected to find in this poor house ? ” 

The words were polite enough, but were spoken in a 
tone which conveyed to Jim that an answer was 
expected, and that it would be the better for his health 
if it were given at once. He shook his head. Speak 
he could not, nor make a sound, with the gag dislo- 
cating his jaws. 

His questioner saw this, and made a sign to the negro, 
who bent over the prisoner, and removed the impedi- 
ment. Then the man spoke again. 

“ Perhaps Monsieur can speak now,” he said, 
courteously. “ As soon as Monsieur can do so without 
inconvenience, I shall be glad of an answer to my 
question.” 

Jim swallowed two or three times, and moved his 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 93 


lips without speaking. His mouth was so painful from 
the gag that the mere movement of his jaws was 
torture, but besides this he felt a certain diffidence in 
beginning. It was not a very easy thing to explain 
to a man — even if that man was in Arab dress — that 
one had invaded his property in search of a girl on 
information supplied by an old hag in the native 
quarter of a small Algerian town. Besides, what 
would the girl think ? He could not see her, but had 
an uneasy feeling that she was in the room and watch- 
ing him, and he could guess her opinion of him. Never 
in his life had Jim Lingard felt so small. He lay on 
his back, and turned over in his mind explanation after 
explanation, each less satisfactory than the preceding 
one. 

Then the man who was watching him spoke again. 

“ Well, Monsieur,” he said quietly, “ your explana- 
tion, if you please ? ” 

For the second time it was borne in on Jim that his 
position was a serious one. The man’s words were 
not in the least menacing, but behind them was a 
deadly quietness of tone and manner, which convinced 
Jim that his life was in the balance. His negro guard 
had already shown that he was not likely to stick at 
a trifle, and Jim knew well how easy it was for any 
white man — Legionary or otherwise — to disappear 
in Ain Sefra, and to leave no more trace behind him 
than does a stone flung into deep water. There was 
no excuse to give, and he resolved to tell the truth. 

" I must offer my excuses, Monsieur,” he began. 
" I came — here — well, to tell you the truth, I came 
here — well, for pleasure ! ” 

The other nodded. " For pleasure — yes,” he said 
“ Continue, Monsieur,” 


LOST SHEEP 


By this time Jim had taken hold of himself and the 
habitual recklessness of the Legionary had begun to 
assert itself again. 

“ For pleasure, Monsieur,” he repeated. “ I came 
with no idea of anything else. Now will you be good 
enough to order your servant to unbind my arms and 
feet ? This position is uncomfortable, and I would 
remind Monsieur that we of the Legion are not used to 
this treatment.” 

The other smiled a tight-lipped smile and bent for- 
ward. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Jim saw 
that he really was the man whose life he had saved in 
Paris. Hassan Ali recognised Jim at the same moment 
and his face changed. 

He gave a curt order to the negro, who severed the 
bonds which confined the prisoner’s hands and feet, 
and then, in obedience to another order, withdrew. 

Hassan Ali turned to Jim. 

“ Well, Mr. Lingard,” he remarked in English, 
“ one good turn deserves another. All the same, you 
seem to have a curious notion of pleasure. You come 
into my garden for ‘ pleasure ’ ; you listen to a private 
conversation for ‘ pleasure.’ May I inquire if it is for 
‘ pleasure ’ that you are wearing that uniform ? ” 

Jim smiled rather ruefully. 

" Well, hardly,” he answered; "needs must, you 
know, when a certain personage drives. For the rest, 
I fear I must plead guilty to, and beg you to forgive 
me for, entering your garden. As regards listening to 
your conversation, I certainly heard you speaking, 
but did not understand a word you said ! ” 

Jim thought, but was not sure, that an expression 
of relief passed over Hassan Ali’s face. 

" Ah,” he said, “ you do not speak Arabic, then ? 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 95 


Well, Mr. Lingard, I am sorry you were so roughly 
treated, but you must admit that it was largely your 
own fault. Still, I am not master here, and I must 
consult with — with the proprietor before I can give 
orders for your release.” He bowed, and passed 
behind a curtain at the far end of the room, and Jim 
could hear his voice in conversation with some one else, 
evidently a female. 

Jim pulled himself together, straightened his uniform 
and looked round. The room was well furnished in a 
mixture of European and Oriental styles, but the 
carpetless floor and the cracks in the ceiling showed 
that the house had not been inhabited for some time. 
The air, too, smelt dank and musty, as if the windows 
had not been open for months, and altogether the 
place had an air of not being so much inhabited as 
used temporarily for a purpose. 

Jim could still hear the voices behind the curtain, 
but this time he was determined not even to listen, 
so turned to the window and looked out. After a 
moment or two, however, he turned with the uneasy 
feeling which one has when watched by some one else. 
He looked round for a moment, and then noticed the 
same negro who had been sitting beside him when he 
recovered consciousness standing in a dark corner, 
still armed with his flissa, and regarding him stead- 
fastly. 

Jim was beginning to feel rather bored with the 
whole affair. His head still ached and he had an 
uneasy consciousness, which he hesitated to acknow- 
ledge even to himself, that if he got out of his present 
position without any further adventure, he would be a 
great deal luckier than he deserved to be. It seemed 
to him that by some chance he had intruded into 


96 LOST SHEEP 


matters which were no concern of his, and which the 
interested parties intended to keep private at all 
costs. Now that he had time to collect his impressions 
he had not liked Hassan Ali’s manner at all. It was 
polite enough — a great deal too polite to be quite 
healthy, Jim thought. In any case his leave was 
nearly, if not quite, up, and it would only mean further 
trouble at barracks if he came back late. The voices 
were still rising and falling beyond the curtain, and he 
determined to see if he could not leave the house with- 
out waiting for Hassan Ali’s or “the proprietor’s” 
permission. 

With this object in view he walked up to the 
negro, and said in French, “ I wish to go out — let me 
pass.” 

The other made no reply but still stared at him and 
as Jim repeated his sentence, he pointed to his mouth 
and shook his head. Then Jim tried signs. He 
pointed to himself, and then out of the window, and 
made motions to suggest opening a door, but with no 
further result than a continuance of the stare and re- 
peated shakes of the head. At last, in disgust, he 
turned and walked towards the curtain at the far end 
of the room, only to find his way barred by the negro, 
who, with a swiftness surprising in one so heavy, had 
leaped in front of him, and was barring his passage 
with his flissa raised threateningly. Jim’s hand flew 
down to his left side in search of the long Lebel bayonet 
which ought to have hung there, but came away 
empty. The scabbard was there, but the bayonet 
was gone. 

Jim accepted the situation with philosophy. He was 
reckless enough, but he did not see the use of tackling 
a man armed with a razor-edged sword with his naked 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 


97 


hands. If he had to fight later on, well and good, but 
the future could take care of itself. After all, if these 
people had wanted to kill him they could have done it 
quite easily before he recovered his senses, and in any 
case he could not see any reason why they should want 
to do so at all. He looked the negro straight in the 
eyes, then turned and walked over to the window 
again with a somewhat exaggerated indifference, and 
looked out of it, humming softly to himself. The 
negro, on his part, retired to his corner, and beyond 
continuing his surveillance took no further notice of 
his prisoner. 

For another quarter of an hour the voices continued 
behind the curtain, then Hassan Ali appeared, and 
beckoned to Jim. “ Will you kindly come this way, 
Mr. Lingard,” he said : “ I — we have something 
to say to you.” Jim followed him through the 
curtain. 

The other side was furnished much more luxuriously 
and in a quite different style from the other half of the 
room. Whereas the latter was a blend of the East 
and West, here everything was purely Oriental. 
The room was furnished with several small, low, 
tables and lit by a silver lamp hanging from the ceiling. 
At the far end was a great divan of scarlet cushions, 
and half seated, half lying among them was the girl 
Jim had seen through the window. She was dressed in 
a silk robe the colour of a ripe apricot, with broad 
black bands on it, and to Jim’s eyes looked like a wasp 
seated on a great scarlet apple. She was unveiled, 
and as Jim entered looked him full in the face, with 
the glance of one well used to meet men’s eyes. Then 
for the first time Jim really appreciated her extraordin- 
ary beauty. She was tall and slim, but well and 


98 LOST SHEEP 


strongly built, with, as far as he could see for her robe, 
the figure of a Greek statue. 

Her eyes were large and dark, and at the moment 
held a mocking gleam which Jim found annoying. 
For the second time that night he realised that he was 
not appearing in exactly a brilliant light. 

He set his teeth a little and bowed to the girl on the 
couch, a proceeding of which she took not the slightest 
notice. 

Then she spoke to Hassan Ah in some dialect which 
Jim did not understand, and the latter turned to 
Jim. 

“ Her Highness says/’ he remarked, “ that you have 
only yourself to blame for what has occurred to-night. 
She also wishes me to say that, under the circumstances, 
and as you have probably had a lesson, she has no wish 
to detain you. But let me tell you, Mr. Lingard, that 
you have had a very narrow escape to-night ! The 
best thing you can do is to forget all about to-night’s 
adventure, and especially and in particular to forget 
that you have seen me, or that such a person as Hassan 
Ali exists. This is not intended as advice — it is a 
warning. And now — if you will follow me? ” He 
opened a small door in the wall, and Jim followed him, 
pursued by the glance of those mocking eyes from the 
couch, a glance in which he fancied that the mockery 
was tinged with interest. 

Hassan Ali walked with him as far as the garden 
gate, and then pointed to the barracks. 

“ My turn to-night, Mr. Lingard,” he said. “ You 
saved my life in Paris — I saved yours to-night. Her 
Highness is not fond of intruders. By the way, here 
is your bayonet. One is sometimes tempted to do rash 
things when one is armed. Well, good night — and 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 


remember my warning. I assure you that it will be 
worth your while to do so ! ” 

He bowed and turned back to the house ; while Jim 
walked towards the barracks, thinking a great deal 
less about his night’s adventure than about the girl 
with the mocking eyes. 


CHAPTER IX 


vaubourg’s little ways 

J IM said nothing about his adventure in the town 
to any of his comrades. Quite apart from the 
fact that in his own mind he was conscious 
that he had not cut a particularly heroic figure, 
there remained the memory of the girl he had seen, 
and it seemed to him that it would be a kind of pro- 
fanation to discuss her in the way he knew she would be 
discussed should he mention her. The Legionary has 
small respect for women as a sex, and possesses a 
somewhat Rabelaisian turn of humour. 

He mooned about the barracks a good deal, and 
spent a considerable amount of time thinking about the 
unknown. As a matter of fact, this was the best thing 
which could have happened to him at the time, as it 
took his mind off his immediate surroundings, which 
were not exactly healthy. 

At Ain Sefra the cafard season was in full swing. 
The cafard , as a disease, is the specialty of the 
Foreign Legion. It must be remembered that every- 
where in Algeria, except, perhaps, on the smallest 
desert outposts, liquor is both plentiful and ridiculously 
cheap. For a franc a man can buy ten bottles of fiery 
Algerian wine, and for fifty centimes ten absinthes. 
Every glass of this latter which the Legionary drinks is 
an hour taken from his life. He knows this — and 


IOO 


VAUBOURG’S LITTLE WAYS 


IOI 


perhaps for this very reason drinks the more of it. 
The absinthe drinker’s brain is affected in a curious way. 
The man who suffers from cafard, and who is almost 
invariably an absinthe drinker, compares the feeling 
in his head to a small beetle — which is common in 
Algeria and known as the cafard — wandering round 
inside his brain. 

The cafard takes its victims in many ways. To 
one, it may suggest that he is persecuted without 
cause by his superiors ; to another, it will whisper ideas 
of suicide ; and will push a third to open murder. In 
other cases the cafard shows itself by mad pranks, 
very often not lacking in humour. The symptoms of 
cafard are always the same. When a man of the 
Legion sits on his bed, speaking to no one, but twisting 
his fingers and looking straight in front of him, that man 
requires watching. He may do nothing, and come out 
of this state without ill effects, but it is more than 
likely that he will seize his bayonet and run amuck 
his comrades, finally having to be shot down like a mad 
dog. It is no exaggeration to say that fully one quarter 
of the effective strength of the Foreign Legion in 
Algeria suffers more or less from this disease — the off- 
spring of ennui and alcohol. 

That year, cafard was fearfully common at Ain 
Sefra. Men would walk away into the desert, unde- 
terred by the ghastly photographs of the bodies of 
Legionaries after the Arabs had finished with them, 
which hung in every barrack-room to discourage 
desertion. If they were lucky they wandered about 
for a few days and then returned to give themselves up 
— as a rule to be dealt with lightly. The officers of the 
Legion are very tolerant to cafard. 

It was here that this form of the disease seized on 


102 LOST SHEEP 


Desrolles. No sooner had he finished one term of 
imprisonment, for attempted desertion, than he would 
walk out of barracks, and do the same thing again, 
only to be recaptured before he had been gone an hour. 
Finally, beyond being ordered to report himself at 
the guard-room every hour when he was not on duty, he 
was not punished. The officers recognised that this 
was his special form of cafard , and that punishment 
was useless. 

If Lingard, by the grace of Providence, had not 
had something else to think of, probably the cafard 
would have seized on him as it did on so many others. 
As it was, his interest in “ the girl of the eyes ” bid 
fair to develop into a kind of cafard of its own. 
Jim could not get those eyes out of his thoughts. As he 
left the room that night, he could have sworn that, 
besides the mockery in them, there was a certain 
amount of interest. In spite of Hassan Ali’s warning, 
he determined, if not to pay another visit to the house 
in the garden, at least to pass near it as often as possible. 

However, this determination was frustrated for a 
time by " the Swine.” One morning Jim was alone 
in the barrack-room. Since his adventure, he had 
become very much more particular about his personal 
appearance than at any time since he had joined the 
Legion. One of the first signs of his regeneration in 
this respect had been the disappearance of the short 
beard which he had allowed to grow, and now, outwardly 
at least, he was more like the old Lingard than at any 
time during the last three years. 

This morning he was standing near the window, 
shaving. He had just finished this operation and was 
holding the glass to one side to see if he was quite clean, 
when a voice sounded behind him : 


VAUBOURG’S LITTLE WAYS 


103 


" Corporal, you will do two days’ arrest ! ” 

Jim turned. 

Vaubourg had entered the room noiselessly as was 
his custom, and the sun reflected in Jim’s glass had 
dazzled his eyes for a moment. 

‘"Yes,” Vaubourg repeated, " two days ! That 
will teach you to flash the sun in my eyes another 
time.” 

Jim gasped. " But I assure you, mon adjudant,” 
he said, " it was quite by accident ! I am very 
sorry.” 

Vaubourg smiled. " M’en fous ,” he remarked ; 
"you will do me two days for flashing the sun in 
my eyes and two days more for having answered me — 
four days in all. Have you any other remarks to 
make ? ” 

Jim bit his lip and remained silent. He knew that 
Vaubourg would be only too glad to increase his punish- 
ment, and he determined to give him no chance to do 
so. He saluted respectfully and remained at attention 
until the adjutant had left the room and entered the 
orderly room opposite. 

In his dealings with the men Vaubourg went on one 
fixed principle. This was that every man in his 
company could, with care, be converted into a candi- 
date for the punishment battalions. Of course, 
if luck was against him, the quarry might escape, 
and in this case the adjutant was thankful for small 
mercies, and took any chance of inflicting punish- 
ment which came his way with a joyful heart ; but the 
real object which he kept before him, and which he 
pursued with tireless energy, was to send as many 
men as possible to the unspeakable hell of Biribi. 
The one thing which spoilt his enjoyment of this 


104 LOST SHEEP 


pastime was, that he did not wield a fluent pen. 
Punishment inflicted had to be set down in a book 
set apart for the purpose, and if the reason were 
not given the penalty would not be increased by the 
captain or colonel — which augmentation “ the Swine ” 
always regarded as a personal triumph to himself. 
This being the case, he spent many a quarter of an hour 
thinking out polished phrases in which to record his 
successes. When finished, these literary monuments 
to his achievements were a source of huge delight to 
him, and also — but in a different way — to the officers 
of the company. 

Vaubourg entered the orderly room, seated himself, 
and drew the punishment book towards him. Then 
he pushed it away, sat back in his chair, and looked 
at the fly-spotted ceiling awaiting inspiration. It did 
not come. He pushed his kepi to the back of his 
head and scratched his forehead. 

The wished-for inspiration still remained coy. 

Vaubourg drew the punishment book towards him 
again and studied its pages in the hope that past 
records might give him an idea. Some of the reasons 
given for punishments were interesting, as, “ The 
Legionary Rossi ; four days’ salle de police, for having 
stuck a candle on his brush with wax, and so having 
converted this article of furniture into a candle- 
stick.” 

And “ the Legionary Chuard, for having made a 
noise in the barrack-room while eating his dinner with 
the leg of a bed-cot.” 

Vaubourg wrote in a large round hand. " Corporal 
Lingard — four days,” and again looked up at the 
ceiling for inspiration. At last it descended. The 
adjutant smiled and entered the motif in the book. 


VAUBOURG’S LITTLE WAYS 105 


" For having answered his superior officer and for 
having collected the rays of the sun in a mirror and 
thrown them violently in the aforesaid officer’s 
face.” 

Then he rose and left the orderly room with the air 
of a man who has performed his duty in the face of 
difficulties. 

Jim Lingard remained at the window watching 
the adjutant until he had left the orderly room. Then 
he slipped on his tunic, and ran across to inspect the 
latter’s literary labours. When he saw the last entry 
he whistled between his teeth. 

“ Damn * the Swine,’ ” he remarked, half aloud, " if 
Laplote sees this, and happens to have a drink in, I’ll 
get eight days as sure as God made little apples. Oh, 
damn ! ” 

This prophecy was likely to be quite correct. When 
Lieutenant Laplote had been drinking, the adjutant’s 
somewhat nebulous prose was apt to confuse him, 
and he would very often double the punishment 
inflicted, on the principle that if the culprit did not 
deserve it at the time he most certainly would in the 
near future. When sober, he very often remitted 
punishments altogether. 

When the punishment book came before Captain 
Faes, the men were at any rate sure of fair dealing. 
The captain did not like his adjutant and, on principle, 
never increased his punishments, unless for serious 
crime. Vaubourg’s finest literary efforts were wasted 
on him. If the captain thought the reason for a 
punishment frivolous, he would say so quite bluntly 
and quash it. On the other hand, when he considered 
punishment necessary he never spared, but his awards 
were always just, and never frivolous or vindictive. 


io6 LOST SHEEP 


“ The Swine ” was always “ the Swine,” and lived 
up to his name. Laplote was an uncertain quantity, 
who either gave ridiculously heavy punishments or 
none at all, according to the state he happened to be 
in, while Morsec, as far as possible, avoided having 
anything to do with the lime de punitions and passed 
it on to his seniors. 

Jim passed an unpleasant day. He wanted to get 
into the town. The girl he had seen at the house 
had taken an extraordinary hold on his imagination, 
and he wanted to see her again. How he was going 
to do so, or why he wanted to, he did not know very 
clearly. He had never exchanged a solitary word with 
her, but the mocking smile in her eyes had piqued him 
considerably. 

In any case, the desire to see this girl again had 
become very strong. In the ordinary course of things 
he would have accepted the totally undeserved four 
days’ arrest which he had received from Vaubourg, and 
any supplementary punishment which it might please 
Lieutenant Laplote to add to it, with the customary 
shrug and the formula “ C’est la legion ,” but, as it was, 
the occurrence annoyed him extremely. If it had not 
been for the certainty of being detected, and as cer- 
tainly being reduced to the ranks, he would have taken 
matters into his own hands and broken his arrest ; but 
he valued the freedom from petty annoyances and 
unpleasant duties which his rank of corporal gave him, 
and so he decided to see what would happen. As it 
turned out, it was the best thing which he could have 
done. Lieutenant Laplote was away for a couple of 
days, and Morsec, following his custom, passed on 
the punishment book to Captain Faes. 

Jim was seated on his bed that evening, engaged 


VAUBOURG’S LITTLE WAYS 


107 


in the eternal astiquage, when the orderly sergeant 
entered. 

“ Corporal Lingard,” he said, “ the captain wants 
to see you — now — at once.” 

Jim looked up from his work. “ All right, sergeant,” 
he said, “ coming. I say, do you know what for ? ” 

The sergeant was sarcastic. 

“ Oh, yes,” he said, “ the captain told me all about 
it. He always does. It seems that the Government 
are dissatisfied with the Governor-General of Algeria 
and want to offer the post to you. No, don’t stop to 
change. Go as you are. The captain said he wanted 
you at once ! ” 

Jim put on his kepi and departed, wondering what 
fate had in store for him. He crossed the barrack 
square, knocked at the door of the company orderly 
room, and, in reply to the shout of " Entrez ,” entered. 
Captain Faes was sitting at the table with the punish- 
ment book in front of him. Standing beside him was 
Lieutenant de Morsec. Jim saluted and stood to 
attention. Captain Faes responded to the salute 
by raising his forefinger a fraction of an inch 
towards the peak of his kepi and then remarked to 
Morsec. 

“ Look, Morsec ! this is the gentleman who collects 
the rays of the sun in a glass, and throws them 
with violence — I repeat with violence — in the faces of 
his superior officers.” Then to Jim. “ Well, what have 
you to say for yourself ? Eh ? ” 

“Mon capitaine ,” the other began, but the captain 
cut him short. 

“ Look here, corporal,” he said, “ don’t trouble to 
give long explanations. What I want to know is, 
exactly how this happened ? ” 


io8 LOST SHEEP 


Jim repeated what had occurred, and the captain 
nodded. 

“ Punishment remitted for having thrown sun 
violently in superior’s face,” he said briefly. “ Two 
days for having answered stands. You have been 
long enough in the Legion, corporal, to know that 
under no circumstances does a soldier answer his 
superior officer unless told to do so. Remember 
this in future. Now, I understand that you have 
served elsewhere and understand mounted drill. Is 
this so ? ” 

“ Yes, mon capitaine ,” answered Jim. 

" Very good, then,” continued the captain. " We 
are going to form a mounted section to which in future 
you will be attached. You will do a month’s pre- 
liminary drill here — and then go back to Douargala 
with the rest of the section to join the mounted com- 
pany there. That is|all I have to say to you. Rom- 
pez .” 1 

Jim went back to his room feeling rather relieved. 
He knew that it was considered rather an honour in the 
Legion to be picked out for service in the mounted 
companies, which are stationed on the edge of the 
desert, and who beat the Arab marauders at their own 
game of lightning raids and forced marches. Those 
sent from the Legion for this duty declare that they are 
picked as the best men from every company, while 
those who are not declare that the mounted com- 
panies are made up of those who can be most easily 
spared from ordinary duty. The reader can take his 
choice from either theory. 

If it had not been for the encounter in the house. 
Jim would have been unfeignedly glad to get away 
1 Dismiss. 


VAUBOURG’S LITTLE WAYS 


109 


from Ain Sefra on any terms whatever ; as it was, 
his feelings were somewhat mixed. As he entered 
the barrack room, and proceeded with his astiquage, 
his mind was largely occupied with the eyes of the 
girl whom he had seen in the house, when suddenly 
a terrific noise at the other end of the room brought 
him to his feet. 

There was a crash as a bed-cot went over, confused 
cries of “Look out — rush him!’* a man’s scream, 
and more confused shouting. Jim pushed his way 
through the crowd. Standing over his broken bed- 
cot, with a bloody bayonet in his hand, was an 
old Legionary — one Badinaud — and lying at his feet 
with the blood pouring from a severed artery in 
his neck was another man. The murderer’s face was 
congested and he was shouting a confused gabble of 
words : “ Ah, tas de saligauds,” he was yelling, “ come 
closer, let me get at you.” Then as he noticed Jim’s 
stripe, “ A corporal — let me get at you, M. le caporal, 
and I’ll rip you up from the fork to the breast-bone ! 
Ah, Dieu de Dieu ! Ah, scelerats ! ” 

Jim knew what was the matter. It was cafard in 
its worst form — that of homicidal mania — and he also 
knew what was his duty. He lowered his head, and 
hurled himself at the maniac’s legs, with the flying 
tackle of the old Rugby player. Both men went down 
together, the bayonet flying out of Badinaud’s hand. 
Then as the madman wrenched himself clear and rose 
to his feet Jim did the same and swung hard and true 
for the angle of the jaw with his fist. The blow landed 
true to a hair and Badinaud swayed, and then pitched 
face down to the blow — knocked out. Before he came 
round he was bound hand and foot and removed to 
the guard-room, while his victim was taken to hospital. 


no LOST SHEEP 


Badinaud was found dead in the guard-room the next 
morning. By some means he had got one of his hands 
loose and strangled himself with the strap which had 
confined them. Le cafard had claimed its first victim 
of the season at Ain Sefra. 


CHAPTER X 


EXIT “ THE SWINE ” 

L IFE with the mounted company was much 
more supportable than in the battalion. 
There was still hard work, and plenty of it 
— that at least is never lacking in the Legion! — but 
the dead monotony of barrack life, only broken by 
marches of thirty or forty miles, in full marching order 
under the Algerian sun, was absent ; and there was 
an instant and appreciable improvement in the morale 
of the men who had been picked for this duty. The 
mounted soldier of the Legion is not a cavalry man, but 
a mounted infantry man, pure and simple. The mounts 
of these companies are mules, and a man who has to 
render one of these interesting animals amenable to 
discipline, and to look after his well-being generally, 
has quite enough to do to keep him from brooding. 

The mounted section at Ain Sefra had its full share 
of work. Some days after Jim was transferred to 
it the mules arrived, and there followed two days 
of something approaching pandemonium. In many 
cases the animals were quite unbroken, and in 
the majority only half so, but without exception they 
made up for any defects in their education by the 
natural grace and ease with which they used their 
hoofs and teeth. They were taken over by their new 
owners from their escort of Spahis, or native cavalry, 
hi 


ii2 LOST SHEEP 


who were unanimous in informing their new owners 
that their late charges were the offspring of devils and 
people who are not usually met with in really good 
society. Several of the Spahis also, while caressing 
tender places on their limbs, expressed a desire to 
defile the graves of the said progenitors. After a 
considerable amount of time and trouble, however, 
the animals were installed in their stables, and then 
the really exciting part of the work began. A mule 
can live on very little, at a pinch, but he cannot do 
without a certain amount of food and water, and once 
the mules were in the stable, for anyone to enter it 
was — to say the least of it — a somewhat risky pro- 
ceeding. A man would sidle along at what he con- 
sidered a safe distance, with a feed or bucket of water 
for his mount, the said mount watching him with ears 
laid back, and an eye which seemed to consist mostly 
of white. Then at the psychological moment a pair 
of heels would shoot out, and there would be another 
man considerably injured in body as well as in feelings. 

However, after a time, both mules and men came 
to understand each other better. Ideal mounts the 
former never became, but given a reasonable amount 
of care in approaching them, and a tight seat when 
once they had been mounted, they answered the 
purpose for which they were intended — that of con- 
veying men from place to place in a shorter time than 
the latter could perform the journey on their own feet. 

Many of the men of the mounted detachments 
were ex-cavalry men, and soon got on some sort of 
terms with their mounts, but most of the others had 
never ridden before, and required considerably more 
tuition than had been counted on by the officers. 
This was lucky for Jim. He had always been a fine 


EXIT “THE SWINE 


113 


horseman with a “ way with him ” so far as anything 
equine was concerned, and he had very soon reduced 
his own mount, a great, grey animal with a tired eye, 
to something approaching docility. One day he had 
picked up one of the men of his squad who had come 
off very much the worst in an argument with his 
mount, and was explaining to him that, if a mule’s 
neck had been meant for its rider to hold on to, it 
would doubtless have been furnished with handles 
for the purpose by a beneficent Providence, when 
Captain Faes passed. He said nothing at the time, but 
some days afterwards, meeting Jim alone, he stopped 
him and remarked, “ Ah, corporal, I understand that 
it was you who disarmed the Legionary Badinaud.” 

Jim saluted. “Yes, mon capitaine ,” he replied. 

“ And you understand mounted infantry work,” 
pursued the captain. “ Have you ever served with 
the cavalry ? ” 

Jim replied in the affirmative. 

Captain Faes nodded. “ Very good,” he said, “ we 
want men with the mounted company who understand 
the work. For the present I promote you sergeant, 
subject, of course, to the colonel’s approval. I hope 
you will prove worthy of my recommendation.” 

He returned Jim’s salute and departed, leaving the 
latter rather astonished. He had been glad enough 
of his promotion to corporal, but had never expected, 
or indeed tried to rise higher, and now it seemed that 
promotion was coming his way unasked. On the whole, 
he was very glad. He would have more responsibility, 
but on the other hand he would also ha ve^; great deal 
easier time in other ways. 

For some reason, since his visit to the house in]Ain 
Sefra, Jim Lingard had not been satisfied with himself. 

H 


LOST SHEEP 


Before that he had been in danger of developing into 
the typical Legionary, the man with no ambition for 
the future and no regret for the past ; but since he had 
seen “ the girl with the eyes,” as he called her in his 
own mind, regret for the past had entered his mind, 
and with it ambition for the future. Other men had 
got commissions in the Foreign Legion through the 
ranks, and had risen to high command, so why should 
not he ? Because he had made a fool of himself in 
another army, was that any reason why he should 
stay down all his life ? 

Jim would not acknowledge even to his innermost 
self that this newly born ambition was due not so much 
to any belated sense of what was due to himself as 
to a certain pair of dark eyes, and the desire to meet 
the owner of them on more equal terms. 

Life as a sergeant in the Legion was very much more 
tolerable than it had been either as a private or a cor- 
poral. For one thing the adjutant of the newly-formed 
company, a Russian named Sevonikoff, an ex-ofhcer 
of the Imperial Guard, was a decent fellow who did not 
bully his subordinates, and for another they were free 
from Lieutenant Laplote’s drunken caprices, that 
officer having been transferred to Sidi-bel-Abbes. 
Altogether, Jim was very much happier than at any 
time since he had been in the Legion. Captain Faes 
understood his Legionaries, and did not interfere with 
them, and Lieutenant de Morsec, who had also been 
transferred to the mounted company, had visions of 
glory to come, and took far more interest in his work 
than he had done when with the battalion. Also it 
was a pleasant change to Jim to find his opinion asked 
occasionally, and even deferred to. Captain Faes was 
a splendid officer, but he was first and foremost an 


EXIT “THE SWINE” 


ii5 


infantry man, and knew very little about mounted 
work. However, he was far too good a soldier and too 
just a man not to recognise that several of his non- 
commissioned officers and men who had served in 
cavalry regiments knew more about this branch of his 
work than he did, and was also — luckily for his subor- 
dinates — far too large-minded to harbour petty jeal- 
ousy or refuse to learn what they had to teach him. 

Jim had seen very little of his company commander 
when he was with the battalion. Owing to the size 
of the Legion company — 250 men — the company com- 
mander can only exercise a general supervision over it, 
and of necessity has to leave a great deal to his subor- 
dinates. Captain Faes had been quite aware of the 
peculiarities of Lieutenant Laplote and “ the Swine,” 
but at every attempt to alter things he had been 
thwarted by that fetish of the French army — system. 
Now, however, that he had comparatively a free hand, 
things went very smoothly, and Jim found himself 
developing a strong liking and respect for his captain. 

However, if things were going well in the mounted 
detachment, the men who had remained in No. 2 
Company were having a very fair foretaste of the 
infernal regions. With Lieutenant Laplote trans- 
ferred, and the other two officers with the mounted 
company, the command of No. 2 had devolved on the 
adjutant during the interregnum before the arrival 
of a new commanding officer, and he used his power 
to the full. Punishments had been frequent before, 
but now they were constant. Unfortunately for him- 
self, Chuard had not been one of the men transferred, 
and Vaubourg, who for some reason had taken a special 
dislike to him, had deliberately set himself to make the 
unfortunate man’s life a hell. Chuard could do nothing 


n6 LOST SHEEP 


right. He spent his days at the peloton de chasse and 
his nights in the guard-room, and began to lose flesh 
visibly. Things were moving to a climax. It was 
perfectly patent to every one at Ain Sefra that one 
of two things was likely to happen. Either Chuard 
would desert, a proceeding which at Ain Sefra meant 
almost certain death at the hands of wandering Arabs, 
or else would give the adjutant the opportunity he 
sought and so go to the unspeakable punishment 
battalions. 

When the end did come it came quickly. Chuard 
was undergoing as entence of three days’ salle de police 
for some trivial “ crime,” a punishment which carried 
with it peloton de chasse. Now on this special occasion 
Vaubourg had followed his usual pleasing custom of 
taking the punishment drill himself, and was acting 
according to his habit. That is to say, he had picked 
out the very hottest corner of the stifling square, and 
had arranged the punishment squad opposite a white- 
washed wall in such a position that they had the 
full benefit of every ray reflected from it. This had 
gone on for two days. The day before Jim had seen 
Chuard casually, and had had a few words with him. 
Chuard had been in an extremely nervous state, and 
had spoken to Jim on the subject of the adjutant as 
a private should not speak of one non-commissioned 
officer to another. His speech was as follows : 
“ Ah, Dieu de Dieu ! You cannot imagine what I 
have to stand from that abortion of a Vaubourg — 
another three days for nothing, plank bed at night and 
peloton de chasse with the square as hot as le bon Dieu 
ever made hell in the daytime. Let him take care of 
himself. I say it — I ! ” 

Jim had spoken to him soothingly, telling him not 


EXIT “THE SWINE” 


ii 7 


to be a fool, but the next day he remembered Chuard’s 
words. 

Vaubourg had picked out a shady spot for himself, 
rolled and lighted a cigarette, and was putting his 
squad through the manual exercise “ by numbers.” 
He would inhale a mouthful of smoke, expel it, and 
then give the order — “ Present arms ! — one ! ” Then he 
would walk up and down in the shade a little, look at 
a lizard on the wall with interest, and finally give the 
word — “ Two ! ” and after an interval of almost a 
minute — “ Three ! ” and then looked at his victims 
with a benevolent smile, as much as to say, “ Well ! 
at last we have got the arms presented. Are you 
satisfied now ! ” 

This had gone on for half an hour when the adjutant 
introduced a new gambit into the game. He had kept 
the men standing rigidly to attention, and now gave 
the order — “ Fix bayonets ! ” This being accom- 
plished he proceeded to put them through the bayonet 
exercise, still by numbers. Having gone through it 
twice, however, his invention not being equal for the 
moment to devising any new form of torture, he re- 
peated the same exercise. He had got the men in the 
position of “On guard,” with the legs bent and the 
full weight of the body on them, and the rifle with the 
long, deadly Lebel bayonet on it pointing forward, 
when for some reason the fancy took him to go in front 
of the men to see if the rifles were held at the correct 
angle. 

The adjutant walked down the line and halted in 
front of Chuard. 

“ Do you call that on guard ? ” he inquired, “ why 
a child could push you over — like that ! ” and he seized 
the barrel of the rifle, and pushed it violently, almost 


n8 LOST SHEEP 


knocking Chuard backwards. The action released 
the suppressed hate in the heart of Chuard, as a touch 
will release a compressed spring. His bayonet shot 
forward with the full weight of his body and rifle 
behind it, and took the adjutant full in the throat, 
going through it, and shivering itself against the wall. 
Vaubourg went down in a heap and never spoke again, 
and Chuard bent over the dying man and spat in his 
face. “ Paye ” he said, and that was all. He sur- 
rendered himself without a struggle to the guard, and 
was marched away with his head hanging and his feet 
dragging like an old man’s. 

Two nights afterwards Chuard made his famous 
escape from the guard-room at Ain Sefra, an escape 
which is still historic in the Legion. 

About two o’clock in the morning the sergeant of 
the guard was awakened by a violent knocking on the 
door of the cell where Chuard was confined ; and, on 
demanding what was the matter, was informed in 
piteous accents that the prisoner felt as if he were going 
to die. The sergeant was a humane man and opened 
the door in order to render assistance — to be instantly 
knocked senseless by a terrific coup de savate under the 
jaw. Then Chuard seized the prostrate man’s bayonet, 
ran through the guard-room, and was past the sentry 
and through the gate of the fort before any attempt 
whatever could be made to stop him. 

Here his connection with the ist regiment etrangere 
ended. His subsequent adventures only became 
known long afterwards, partly through reports brought 
in by Arab policemen, and partly through a letter 
written by the deserter himself to a comrade at Sidi-bel- 
Abbes nearly a year after his escape. 

When Chuard found himself outside the wall of the 


EXIT " THE SWINE ’ 


119 


fort, instead of making off into the desert at once he 
doubled round to the back of it, and concealed himself 
behind a bastion until the subsequent hue and cry 
had died down a little. Then he set out on foot, 
travelling due west by the stars. His object was the 
Moroccan frontier. 

At this time the state of affairs in Morocco was the 
common subject of conversation in the barrack-room, 
and the country itself to the Legionary, if not exactly 
flowing with milk and honey, was at any rate sufficiently 
well endowed with wine and wives to fire his imagina- 
tion. Just then there were no less than three Sultans 
in Morocco, fighting each other for its overlordship, 
besides a host of smaller adventurers who saw no reason 
whatever, if Allah favoured them, that they should 
not be Sultan in the fullness of time, and in the mean- 
while were quite content to accumulate the necessary 
sinews of war by plundering anyone who was weak 
enough. It was well known in the Legion that any 
of these would-be Sultans had good gold for men who 
could drill their troops on the European model, and 
Chuard wanted some of that gold badly. He also 
reasoned that he might get ambushed and killed by 
Arabs on his journey, but that if he stayed in Ain 
Sefra guard-room he would infallibly be court - 
martialled and shot for the murder of the adjutant, 
and so he had determined to try Morocco. 

He had been travelling about three hours when he 
saw a small fire in the desert, and crawling closer, 
discovered a Touareg encampment. 

The camels were under guard some little way from 
the camp, and Chuard, making a detour, crept up 
behind the camel guard, stabbed him with his bayonet, 
and mounting the dead man’s camel rode hard for the 


120 LOST SHEEP 


frontier, hotly pursued by the rest of the Touaregs, 
who had been alarmed by a shot which their comrade 
had managed to fire in his death agony. 

By what can only be described as a miracle of good 
luck, immediately after crossing the frontier the 
fugitive rode almost into the middle of a Moorish 
harka 1 going north to join Mulai Hafid; and, the Moors 
and Touaregs being hereditary enemies, . the latter 
wisely discontinued the pursuit. 

Chuard on being brought before the Moorish chiefs 
so managed to impress them with the extent of his 
military knowledge that he then and there was ap- 
pointed a captain. He took part in the campaign 
of Mulai Hafid against Abd-ul-Aziz, the reigning Sultan, 
and on the victory of the latter received by way of 
reward a post, which he made so lucrative by the use 
of the traditional Moorish methods, that in the course 
of a few years he was able to resign it, and retire to 
Switzerland with his savings, where he is doing very 
well. 

Since then many a Legionary has looked longingly 
across the desert, and thought of Chuard and his ride. 
Some have even tried to emulate him and have found 
rest in the desert, but so far, as a record of la pompe 2 
from the Legion, Chuard’ s ride stands alone. 

1 Army. 3 Desertion. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE SECOND VISIT TO THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 

O NE evening, about a fortnight after his pro- 
motion, Jim left barracks. He had received 
late leave from Captain Faes, and, without any 
very clear idea of how he was going to do so, 
meant to see " the girl with the eyes ” again. He 
walked through the Village Negre two or three times, 
then left it, and sat on the sand by the edge of the 
desert, smoking and turning over ways and means in 
his mind. He was quite determined that this time 
he was not going to enter the house where he had met 
her in the same condition as the first time. He 
desired extremely to remove that mocking look in 
the dark eyes, and he was quite aware that the best 
way of creating a favourable impression on a young 
woman was not to be carried bound hand and foot 
into her presence after having been knocked out by 
one of her servants. 

As to Hassan Ali and his advice, he gave very 
little thought to either. If the girl were there he was 
going to see her again, speak to her, if possible, but 
in any case to see her; and it was how to do this 
which was exercising his mind. 

Non-commissioned officers and men of the Legion 
are not exactly welcomed as callers in Algeria, whether 
by natives or colonists, and Jim knew quite well 
121 


122 


LOST SHEEP 


that a complaint of his presence about the house in 
the garden to the authorities would mean the loss of 
his newly -gained stripes, if not more severe punishment. 

On the other hand, he did not think that any such 
complaint was likely to be made. Hassan Ali had given 
him the impression that he did not wish his presence or 
that of the girl to be known to the authorities, and 
under the circumstances Jim dismissed the idea from his 
mind. To the personal danger involved, which he was 
quite aware might be considerable, he was serenely 
indifferent. The Legionary has taken a leaf from the 
book of the Arab, and is a confirmed fatalist, and no 
fear of any conceivable consequences is likely to deter 
him from an adventure. Still Jim realised that the 
fewer people besides himself who were aware that he 
had any object of interest in the house in the garden 
the better, and for this reason decided not to seek any 
further information from Mere Julie. That lady, 
while possibly able to give information on the subject, 
was hardly trustworthy, and as a matter of fact 
was quite capable of furnishing him with it for a 
consideration, and then warning Hassan Ali for a 
further honorarium. Besides, he did not feel inclined 
to visit Mere Julie’s domicile again. Like most of 
the men at Ain Sefra, he had gone there more than 
once or twice, and on each occasion had left it and its 
tenants, consumed with a sick feeling of self-disgust, 
only to fall again ; but now, and only half acknowledged 
to himself, the disgust was stronger and for a different 
reason. It seemed like a blasphemy to enter the 
presence of the " girl with the eyes,” after leaving 
Mere Julie’s establishment ; and a worse one to ask for, 
or receive any information from that lady on the subject 
of the said girl. 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 123 


Jim was resolved to chance it, and to get his inter- 
view unaided or not at all. He rose, dusted the sand 
from his white trousers, and passed into the town, 
halting at the wall of the garden which surrounded the 
house. He looked and listened, but the whole place 
seemed quite deserted. Once he thought he saw a 
flash of light at a window, but it was gone so quickly 
that he concluded that it must be imagination or due 
to strained eyes. Then he climbed the wall, and stepped 
cautiously forward through the thick undergrowth 
until he found himself within a few yards of the 
veranda. The house was very dark and still, and Jim 
worked his way through the bushes until he was close 
to the window through which he had looked before. 
This time, however, it was tightly shuttered, and he 
began to think that the tenants were gone. 

He stepped forward a little and then halted as if 
he were shot. He was almost certain he had heard 
a laugh quite close to him. 

He looked into the darkness all around him, but could 
see nothing, and had begun to put the sound down to 
imagination also, when a voice from a window above 
his head inquired calmly : “ Ohe, la-bas, what do you 
want ? ” 

Jim stepped back and looked up. 

Framed in the window above him was the upper 
part of a body, and a face, the outlines only of which 
he could make out, but which he was almost sure 
belonged to the girl whom he had seen on his previous 
visit. 

He cleared his throat. 

“ Mademoiselle — ” he began rather nervously. 

But the voice above cut him short. “ Mon Dieu! ” 
it said, “ another of those Legionaries ! What are 


124 


LOST SHEEP 


you doing here? If you do not answer instantly I 
will call my servants and have you flogged away from 
my house ! ” 

Jim Lingard, where women were concerned, had 
always had a considerable store of what some of them 
called audacity and others impertinence, and now it 
came to his rescue. 

“Not another Legionary, mademoiselle,” he said, 
“ the same one ! In reply to your question, as you 
see, I am standing in the garden ! ” 

There was a gasp from the window, and then the 
voice came down again. “ What have you come here 
for ? ” it said. “ Kindly answer me at once.” 

Jim bowed. 

“ Well ” he said, “ I came here to see somebody. 
As a matter of fact, mademoiselle, I came here to see 
you ! ” 

There was another gasp from the window, but this 
time the voice was much less angry. 

“ To see me ,” it said; “ and may I ask, M. le legion- 
naire , what possible interest I can have to a corporal 
of the Legion ? ” # 

“ Sergeant,” corrected Jim cheerfully. 

“ Well, to a sous-off, then ! ” continued the voice 
rather viciously. “ I must confess I am quite at a loss 
to imagine what possible interest I could have to any- 
one in the Legion, of no matter how exalted a rank.” 

Jim stepped forward right under the window. 

“ Ah, mademoiselle ! ” he said, “ surely you can 
guess ! Has no one who has seen you once ever desired 
to see you again ? I can only beg you to forgive my 
presumption, mademoiselle, but since I saw you the 
first time I have been thinking of you so much that I 
had to see you again. But I will go now.” 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 125 


There was a sound suspiciously like a smothered laugh 
from the window, and the figure above bent forward. 

“You are very polite, M. le legionnaire — I suppose 
I ought to say M. le sergent,” remarked the voice. 
“ Still, you can hardly say that you have seen me this 
time, can you ? Perhaps if you would look up ? ” 

Jim did so. The window was not very high above his 
head, and he could see the face of the figure framed in 
it quite distinctly. It was the girl whom he had seen 
on his previous visit. She was leaning forward from 
the window with her hands on the sill, and her face 
bent downwards. Also, to Jim’s intense surprise, she 
was laughing — not aloud, but softly, very much as a 
child laughs who is doing something which it knows 
it has no earthly business to do, and for which it will 
be severely punished if caught. 

The girl at the window looked at Jim for a moment, 
and then nodded approvingly. 

“ Mes compliments, M. le sergent ,” she remarked. 
“I see you have removed your beard. I must say it 
improves you. And now — since this time you really 

have seen me, perhaps f” and a white arm made 

a vague gesture towards the barracks. 

Jim bowed and turned, but as he did so a flower 
thrown from above struck his cheek, and he turned 
again. 

“ M. le sergent ,” remarked the girl, “ a very little 
sight of my face appears to be enough for you. Or 
perhaps you have just remembered that Hassan Ali 
— you remember him, M. le sergent? — told you that 
coming here had its risks ? ” 

Jim felt himself flush, and turned to the window 
again. “ No,” he said. “ What M. Hassan Ali told me 
had entirely escaped my memory, and M. Hassan Ali 


126 LOST SHEEP 


himself for that matter. I thought that you wanted 
me to go ” 

The girl laughed again. 

“ I wanted you to go,” she repeated. “ Ma foi, 
Monsieur, it matters nothing to me whether you go or 
stay. Only, as has been already pointed out to you, 
staying here is attended with certain risks — which 
it would be as well for you to consider.” 

Jim deliberately stepped back, and sat down on the 
ground under the window. 

“ Risks ? ” he said. " Oh, one has always to risk 
one’s life or peace of mind or some little thing like 
that — it is only a question of whether it is worth while 
or not. In this case, I think it is, and therefore the 
risks can take care of themselves for the present. 
And so with your permission, mademoiselle, we will 
continue our chat ! ” 

The girl rested her chin on her hands and looked 
down at him. 

“ I have always heard,” she said, “ that the Legion 
do not attach much importance to their lives and I am 
beginning to believe it now ! Seriously, do you know 
that if you or any Frenchman are found here, that 
nothing — nothing at all can save your life ? ” 

Jim shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I did not know it,” he confessed, " but now that 
I do know it I do not feel any more inclined to move. 
Besides, you are making a slight mistake, mademoiselle. 
I happen to be English — not French.” 

“ But,” the girl interrupted, “ you are a soldier of 
France ? ” 

“ Soldier of the Legion,” corrected Jim. “ English 
none the less for that. But tell me, mademoiselle, 
why is it so dangerous for me to be here ? ” 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 127 


The girl shook her head impatiently. “ I will tell 
you nothing — to-night at least,” she said. “ Some 
other time perhaps. Now you must go ! ” Jim 
shook his head, and she stamped angrily. “ Oh, 
you are stupid,” she said, " see now, I ask you as 
a favour to go. I — I — do not wish to see bloodshed. 
And if you want to come again — perhaps — well, I 
promise nothing, but perhaps you may ! But now 
you must go, and quickly ! ” 

Jim rose, saluted, and slipped through the bushes, 
on his way to the road. He was in a state of extreme 
jubilation. The “ girl with the eyes ” had at least 
shown no special repugnance to his presence ; on the 
contrary, she had mentioned, however tentatively, 
another visit. What Jim could not understand was that 
his life should be endangered by his visits to the house 
in the garden. He knew quite well the extreme 
jealousy of their womenkind shown by Arabs — and 
for that matter by all Mohammedans — and he also had 
heard the stories current in the barrack-rooms of 
Legionaries found in the cold light of the dawn with 
their throats gaping red, or a knife between their 
shoulder-blades, after having pushed an amour with a 
native woman to its conclusion ; but the adventure 
on which he had embarked did not seem to him to 
belong to this category. 

For one thing, as far as he could see, the “ girl with the 
eyes ” was no Moslem woman. Moslem women would 
as soon, or sooner, let any man not their husband see 
them nude as unveiled ; and this girl not only wore no 
veil, but looked men in the eyes, and talked to them 
as equals. Also she seemed to be very much the 
mistress of the house. In the conversation which he 
had heard, but not understood, between her and Hassan 


128 LOST SHEEP 


Ali, the latter, though manifestly against his will, had 
taken a minor part — a thing unheard of in the East 
between man and woman. 

Jim could not understand the state of affairs at all. 
He determined to wait the march of events, and to 
keep his eyes open, at the same time making up his 
mind to apply for further leave as soon as he decently 
could, a privilege which was much easier to come by 
since his promotion to sergeant. 

With this laudable object in view, Jim applied him- 
self to his work with considerably more ardour than he 
had done at any time since his arrival in the Legion. 
Under the regime of Laplote and the late Vaubourg, 
no matter how well a man performed his duty it was 
utterly impossible to escape punishment and conse- 
quently stoppage of leave, but in the mounted detach- 
ment things were very different. Captain Faes, while 
down like steel on malingerers and skrimshankers, was 
indulgent to men who performed their duty well, and 
Lieutenant de Morsec followed his lead. 

That young gentleman had benefited considerably 
by his new surroundings. While with the Legion he 
had never ceased to regret his old regiment, and in 
revenge for finding himself exiled to Algeria had done 
as little work of any kind as he possibly could, leaving 
the discipline of his half company to Vaubourg, a 
task which that worthy had accepted with enthusiasm. 
With the mounted company, however, he had found 
himself more directly under his captain’s eye, and 
after a little time had really begun to take an interest 
in the work. 

The Legion as a regiment is always sure of a con- 
siderable amount of fighting, but the mounted com- 
panies usually receive the brunt of any that is going. 


THE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 129 


The detachment at Ain Sefra had been worked very 
hard, and, being consequently very fit, were now expect- 
ing their removal to Douargala any day. Jim began to 
get rather nervous. Twice he had tried for leave, and 
twice — the company being short of sous-officiers — had 
been refused. Then a couple of Legionaries who had 
shown a special aptitude for the mounted work were 
promoted, and duty being now rather easier he tried 
again, obtaining leave for one night. 

This time he waited until dark and went straight 
to the house in the garden. It was as dark as before, 
and he made a circuit of it without seeing a sign of 
life, when suddenly he felt his arm touched. He 
turned quickly. By his side was a veiled woman, who 
still kept her hand on his arm, and placed the fingers 
of the other on where Jim judged her lips to be under 
the veil for silence. Then she motioned him forward, 
and opened a door which had escaped Jim’s notice 
in the wall of the house, entering herself, and beckoning 
him to follow. 

He seemed to be in a sort of passage, but could not 
be quite sure. As it was almost pitch dark, however, 
he contented himself by pulling the belt of his bayonet 
forward, ready for a quick draw should it prove neces- 
sary, and delivered himself to the will of his guide. 

To anyone not endowed with the natural or acquired 
recklessness of the Legionary the position would have 
been, to say the least of it, one to cause a certain amount 
of inquietude. He was in a house where he had been 
warned that his life was in danger. Added to this, 
he was quite unarmed except for his bayonet, and 
under the guidance of a person whom to his knowledge 
he had never seen in his life before and who might 
possibly be an enemy. However, Jim Lingard’s 


130 LOST SHEEP 


service in the Legion had left him to the full as reckless 
as any of his comrades, and he accepted the situation 
with considerable calmness. 

His guide went along the passage, as one sure of her 
way in spite of the darkness, never taking her hand 
from Jim’s arm. At last she stopped and knocked in 
a peculiar manner on a door, which was almost imme- 
diately opened. 

Then his guide pushed Jim inside and disappeared. 

He looked round for a moment, dazzled by the light 
after the darkness of the passage. Then his eyes 
became used to it and he saw that he was alone in the 
presence of the “ girl with the eyes ! ” 


CHAPTER XII 


AMINE 

S HE was half sitting and half lying on a pile of 
gorgeously hued cushions, on a sort of divan 
which took up most of the end of the room, 
and was clad in a robe of scarlet silk, cut low at the 
neck, and leaving the arms bare to the shoulder. 
Jim had more time to notice details than during his 
previous visit, and was more than ever struck by her 
magnificent beauty. With those wonderful eyes 
blazing underneath level, dark brows, she radiated a 
certain exotic, atmosphere which Jim found strange, 
and could not for the life of him determine whether 
he liked or not. 

There was a carved table beside her, and lying on 
the divan was an open book. 

Jim removed his kepi and bowed, a proceeding which 
the girl on the sofa acknowledged by a flash of white 
teeth, and a wave of a slim hand. 

" So, monsieur/' she said, " you have found it worth 
while to come to this poor house again ? ” 

Jim bowed. 

" Yes, mademoiselle," he answered, “ but I greatly 
feared to find it empty. If your servant had not seen 

me I should have been left in despair. As it is " 

he made a gesture intended to show his appreciation 
of the present state of affairs. 

131 


132 LOST SHEEP 


The girl nodded. “ Ayesha has good eyes,” she 
replied coldly, “ she needs to have. If my servants 
cannot use their eyes — well, they are better without 
them ! I find that, with my servants, tongues are 
superfluous luxuries, but eyes are needed ! ” 

Jim stared at the girl. Who and what was she ? 
She spoke cultivated French, and was evidently an 
aristocrat, but to talk of eyes being useless in her 
service unless they were good ones ! 

“ Oh, ” he replied lightly, “ good eyes are useful 
in every walk of life, but surely bad ones are better 
than none at all, and as to tongues — well, if tongues 
were considered superfluous in the Legion I should 
hardly be enjoying this delightful conversation, should 
I? ” 

The girl on the couch made a petulant gesture. 
“ Oh, you Roumis weary me,” she said. “ Such 
consideration for your servants and work-people ! 
Such magnificent wages while they are young and 
strong enough to work ! If a man works hard he can 
earn enough for food to make him strong enough to 
work next day to earn a little more food ! Now where 
I come from our servants are ours, and we do as we 
like with them ; but you did not come here to talk of 
servants, did you ? Come and sit beside me and let 
us speak of more interesting things — yourself, for 
instance.” 

She made a gesture towards the couch beside her, and 
Jim sat down. He was feeling slightly confused. This 
girl who spoke of servants as her absolute property, 
and did not seem to mind in the least being alone at 
night in a room with a strange man, was rather beyond 
him. Also, to tell the truth, though he would not have 
owned it to himself for a good deal, he was feeling a 


AMINE 


133 


little afraid. During his first and second visits he had 
felt absolutely at ease and quite careless of any risk 
of steel or bullet, but now there was a certain atmos- 
phere about the room and about the woman who 
reclined on the couch beside him, which woke a vague 
but none the less very real uneasiness in him. It was 
not so much a sense of physical danger as a kind of 
spiritual oppression, as if he were in the presence of 
some one who was in touch with Powers which he felt 
vaguely were more hostile than friendly to him. 

Jim Lingard was not a particularly imaginative 
young man, but at the present moment he was feeling 
far from comfortable without being able to give any 
definite reason why he should be so, even to himself. 

Then he was roused from his thoughts by the girl’s 
voice. 

“ Well, monsieur,” she said, " you do not seem 
talkative ! I have heard that the English are a silent 
nation, still I wish to be amused to-night. Tell me 
about yourself. First — what is your name ? ” 

Jim told her, and she nodded. 

“ And rank?” she continued, “ sergeant in the 
Legion !j But, pardon me, M. Lingard, you do not 
look like^ a man who was born to be a sergeant ? 

Perhaps in your own country ? ” and she paused 

suggestively. 

Now it is not exactly the custom in the Foreign 
Legion to put questions, leading or otherwise, to men 
on the subject of their pasts, and in any other circum- 
stances Jim would have been furiously angry. Con- 
siderably to his own surprise, however, he found him- 
self answering the girl’s somewhat pointed query 
without any feeling of resentment whatever. 

“ Yes,” he answered, " I held a commission in my 


134 LOST SHEEP 


own country, but that is over and done with. At 
present I am in the Legion, and likely to stay there.” 

The girl looked at him again from under her level 
brows, and again Jim felt that to answer her was the 
only natural course. 

“ Why did you leave it, then ? ” she queried. 

Jim shrugged his shoulders. “ Money,” he answered, 
“ or rather want of it ! A man cannot stay in the army 
in my country without that, and so ” 

“ And so,” the girl interrupted, " you came to the 
Foreign Legion in search of money ! They say, in the 
South, of a fool that ‘ he searches the desert for water.’ 
They ought to have one in your country, M. Lingard, 
that he came to the Legion for money ! ” 

Jim flushed rather angrily. “ I did not say that I 
came to the Legion for money,” he replied. “ I said 
that I came to it because I had none. It is not quite 
the same thing, you know ! ” 

The girl beside him bent forward and looked in his 
eyes. 

“ Do you want money ? ” she said. 

Jim thought for a moment. 

“Not particularly,” he said at length. “N — no! 
Money is not much good to anyone in this country, 
and ” 

But the girl laughed. 

“ Money no good in this country ! ” she repeated. 
“ Well, M. Lingard, I have never yet heard of the 
country where money is not good. But tell me, since 
you do not want money, what do you want — glory ? ” 

Now Jim Lingard had been over three years in the 
Foreign Legion, a force which during its eighty years 
or so of existence has covered itself with “glory,” in 
a military sense, as no other force has done since the 


AMINE 


135 


days of Rome’s Tenth Legion, and this was the first 
time since his arrival in Algeria that he had heard the 
word used. He was perfectly familiar with the stories 
— which were common gossip of the barrack-room — 
of acts of almost mad bravery done by men and 
officers, and had known men who had taken part in 
them ; but neither the participants nor anyone else 
had seemed to think that there had been anything 
specially heroic in them. The nearest thing to an 
expression of admiration for bravery which he had 
heard had been when the Legionary Harbethur of 
his own company had been led on parade between two 
men, with his blinded eyes covered, and his hacked 
limbs still swathed in bandages, to receive his Cross of 
the Legion of Honour, for having saved two of his 
comrades from the knives of the Moors during the 
battle of Moul-el-Bacha. On that occasion Jim had 
heard an old Legionary behind him remark under his 
breath to a comrade, “ Merde ! * y a de bon ! Mats que 
veux-tu, mon salop? C’est la legion!” 

Besides all this, he had all the reluctance of the 
soldier who has seen service to talk of glory in the 
abstract, but once again the girl’s compelling influence 
asserted itself. 

“ No — well, yes, I suppose so,” he admitted re- 
luctantly. “That is to say, I want to do as well for 
the regiment as I can; not disgrace it, you know” 
— his English horror of fine words asserting itself — “ in 
fact” — here he floundered again — “well, naturally, 
I want some of it if I am lucky enough for it to come 
my way ! ” 

“ And,” the girl replied, “ if it does come your way, 
what have you to look forward to ? A Cross ? A 
breastful of medals ? Will they fill you when you are 


136 


LOST SHEEP 


walking the streets ? Even if you should be given a 
commission it only means that you will retire as a 
major or a colonel to plant cabbages on a few hundred 
francs a month ! Well, M. Lingard, I wish you joy of 
your ambition ! ” 

Jim was getting angry. What business had this 
girl to interfere in his private business ? Also the 
fierce pride of the Legionary in his corps was beginning 
to wake in him, and his voice was very coldly polite as 
he replied. 

“ Pardon, mademoiselle ” he said, “ but you are 
mistaken. The officers of the Legion do not retire to 
‘ plant cabbages * as you say. Once a Legionary always 
a Legionary, and most of our officers stay with the re- 
giment. When they leave it at last, they leave life 
as well 1 As to what you say of a pension of * a few 
hundred francs/ surely the shame of that belongs to 
the politicians in Paris, who have voted themselves 
fifteen thousand francs a year, and grudge his pension 
to a man who has given his life to France. Still, 
nothing we can say or do will alter the nature of 
politicians, and as for the Legion — well, c'est la legion ! 
and that covers everything. 

The girl smiled. 

“You are proud of your regiment/’ she replied, 
“ but suppose I told you of work — work with glory 
and money attached to it, and that it was yours for 
the asking, what would you say ? ” 

“ I would say,” Jim answered, “ that I am a soldier 
of the Legion, under contract for five years, and that, 
until the five years are finished, in the Legion I stay. 
After that — I am a free man.” 

The girl put her lips close to his ear. “ Listen,” 
she whispered, “ down there ” — and she pointed to 


AMINE 


137 


the South — “ there is work for men to do. Why should 
you hold to the Legion. They treat you like a dog 
and work you like a convict. We — they want men 
in the South. Will you come ? I ask you I " 

She turned her eyes full on Jim’s and again he felt 
that his will was not his own, and that he was under the 
influence of some power which was compelling him to 
act as it wished. He pulled himself together with a 
wrench which was almost physically painful, and 
answered almost roughly : 

“ Impossible, mademoiselle 1 I am a soldier of 
the Legion, as I have said. I regret to refuse your re- 
quest, but ” and he made a gesture of helplessness. 

The girl looked at him with a certain admiration 
in her eyes. 

“You are very strong-willed, or shall I say ob- 
stinate ? ” she said. “ Still, we shall see what 
happens. Perhaps you will go South sooner than 
you know." 

“ Probably," Jim answered, “ so far as I know we 
may get orders to go to Douargala almost any day now, 
and that certainly is South." 

The girl wrinkled her brows. “ Douargala ? " she 
queried. 

“ Yes," explained Jim. “A little station right on 
the edge of the desert, a sort of jumping-off place for 
Lake Chad and the centre of Africa generally. I'm 
sure I don’t know why they are sending the Mounted 
Legion there. It is hardly Touareg country; still they 
do raid that way a little, but the Government are not 
very communicative or fond of giving reasons for 
moves ! " 

The girl frowned a little. “ Your Government 
seems to be fairly well informed," she said. “Well, 


138 LOST SHEEP 


perhaps you will find Douargala interesting, M. 
Lingard l ” 

Jim laughed. 

“ Oh, hardly,” he said. “ I was there before, and 
it is about the last spot which the Almighty ever made. 
There isn’t a single thing there except about a dozen 
palm-trees and some wells. No, I can’t think what the 
Government are about.” 

The girl beside him hesitated a moment as if she were 
making up her mind to say something against her 
own judgment. 

“ Have you ever heard of the Senussi ? ” she then 
asked abruptly. 

Jim thought for a moment. 

“ I have heard the name,” he said at length, “ but 
I don’t quite remember what it is. Isn’t it some sort 
of a Mohammedan secret society ? ” 

The girl nodded. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ if you like to call it that, but the 
Senussi is only called ‘ secret ’ by the French officials 
because they are too cowardly to acknowledge its 
existence. They know that their native regiments 
are full of its adherents, and they know too that one 
day France will have to measure her strength with it, 
and they fear what will happen when that day comes 1 ” 

“ But,” interrupted Jim, “ what is the Senussi 
exactly ? ” 

“ The Senussi,” the girl replied, “ is the Power that 
is going to rule Islam, and not only Islam, but the 
East 1 When the time is ripe it will strike, and all 
the European nations who hold Islam under will be 
swept away like dust before the wind. France — 
England will go. Nothing can save them ! ” 

Her eyes were shining, and she had raised her voice, 


AMINE 


139 


but she suddenly stopped as if she realised that she 
had been saying too much, and turned to her com- 
panion. 

“I am afraid you are having a dull evening,” she 
said. “Tell me, now, since you have seen me as you 
wanted to, what you think of me ! ” 

Jim looked at her. “ I think you are the most 
beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he returned, with 
conviction, and then felt that he had made a clumsy 
blunder, but the girl laughed, and was obviously well 
pleased. 

“ Do you ? ” she said, “ and yet you must have seen 
many beautiful women in your own country. Still, 
others have told me that 1 ” 

Jim was rather astonished. The girl beside him 
seemed to take his homage to her beauty as a right, 
and a right to which she was well accustomed. He 
looked at her again. She was lying back on the couch, 
and smiling. Then her hand dropped close to his, 
and after a moment touched it. Jim’s heart was 
beating furiously. The proximity of the girl, the 
scent which emanated from her hair and dress, and the 
heavy, languorous atmosphere of the room, all combined 
to produce an intoxication of the senses. He leaned 
over towards the girl, took her hand and slid his arm 
round her waist. She let it remain there for a 
moment without resistance, and then shook herself 
free. 

“You go too fast, my friend,” she said, with a 
laugh. “ Do you think I am yours for the asking, 
then ? ” 

Jim’s hand closed on hers again; there was an 
instant’s silence, and then the girl continued : 

“ Just now I told you that there was gold and glory 


140 LOST SHEEP 


waiting for you in the South, if you cared to take them. 
Now if I told you there was something else — and gave 
you an earnest of it — would you still refuse it ? ” 

The blood was throbbing in Jim Lingard’s head, and 
his hands were shaking. He had known this girl 
beside him for perhaps an hour to speak to, and already 
he felt that in her company he was not his own master. 
He did not mistake the nature of the offer made to 
him. He could not divine the reason of it, but he 
knew that with every fibre of his being he wished to 
take advantage of it. After all, what was the Legion 
to him ? Why should he be bound to it ? Other men 
deserted, with no prospect in front of them except 
recapture or death — why should he not go ? Then he 
pulled himself together. 

“ Yes ! ” he said, “ I stay with my regiment until 
my time is finished 1 ” 

He rose from the couch, went over to the other end 
of the room, and walked up and down two or three 
times. He felt that the further away he was from the 
couch and its occupant the more chance he had of 
remaining cool and he did not wish to lose his head or 
be tempted any further. He knew quite well how very 
little more of his companion’s influence was needed to 
scatter all his scruples to the wind. 

He was not more moral than any other man of his 
class and education, but he was English and without 
the fiery temperament of the Latin races. Also he 
had the British officer’s strong sense of duty towards 
his regiment, whatever that regiment happened to be, 
and at present he considered that his duty was towards 
the Legion. The girl on the sofa rested her chin on 
her hands, and looked at him without speaking for a 
few minutes. 


AMINE 


141 


“ We want men like you,” at last she said slowly, 
“ men who know how to be faithful to their word. I 
have always heard that the English are that, and now 
I believe it ! Let me tell you, M. Lingard, that there 
are few who would have refused the offer you have 
had to-night I ” 

Jim turned. “ I did not refuse it,” he said, rather 
hoarsely, “ I refused the conditions which went with 
it ! ” 

“ Nevertheless,” the girl said, “ you will come 
South — and before long ! ” 

Jim laughed rather arrogantly. “ Probably,” he 
replied, “ the Legion goes everywhere, and if it is sent 
South, South it will go — to the Pole if it is ordered ! ” 

The girl rose from her divan. 

“ I must send you away now,” she said, “it is not 
very safe for you to stay longer here. Ayesha will show 
you how to get out — or stay, I will I ” 

She extended her hand, and Jim raised it to his lips. 
At the same time with her other hand she extinguished 
the lamp on the table beside her, and J im was conscious 
of fa pair of warm arms round his neck, and lips 
against his own. He was young and only human, and 
he had been very highly tried that night. His arms 
went round the girl’s form, and he returned her kiss 
with interest. 

After a while the girl released herself, and relit the 
lamp and turned to him. 

“My compliments,” she said with a laugh; “you 
are not quite so much of a stone as most of your nation 
have the reputation of being ! and now you must go. 
But what an Englishman you are ! You have never 
even asked my name ! ” 

Jim stammered. It was quite true. He had never 


142 LOST SHEEP 


asked the girl’s name, or spoken to her by any other 
title than that of the formal Mademoiselle. 

The girl sighed. “ See how bold I have to be with 
you,” she said. “ Well, in case it may interest you, 
you may call me Amine.” 

Jim bowed. “ Amine,” he repeated. “ I will 
remember that. My name is Jim.” 

The girl looked puzzled. “ Jeem,” she said, “ Jeem 
— what a strange name ! Well, I will remember it 
also. And now promise me one thing — come down 
here to see me before you go. I know you will come 
South before long, and there is something to be done 
for you first ; and now, Jeem, follow me I ” 

She took his hand and led him down the passage, 
and a minute or two afterwards Jim found himself 
outside in the hot, scented night, with his lips still 
tingling and his head singing as if he were in liquor. 


CHAPTER XIII 


A CONVERSATION WITH DESROLLES 

A FTER his visit to the house in the garden, Jim 
found it difficult to settle down to his duty. 
He felt vaguely ill at ease over the whole 
episode, and felt very much inclined to curse M&re 
Julie for having put the thought of it into his 
head in the first place. Think it out as he might 
from all points of view, he could not come to any 
satisfactory conclusion. Why had the girl Amine 
harped so on gold and glory to be won in the South, 
and, even supposing it was true, what special reason 
could she have for offering them to him ? Also he 
was much exercised in his mind as to who or what the 
said Amine was. She spoke perfect French, and yet 
she was not French ; she was civilised, and at the 
same time showed flashes of primitive passion which 
no woman of the Western races would do. Jim felt 
rather uneasy over the whole affair. Amine fascinated, 
and to a certain extent dominated him when he was 
in her presence, but when he was by himself, and had 
time for cool reflection, the more he looked at the whole 
business, the less he liked it. It did not seem quite 
natural, somehow. An intrigue with an Arab lady, 
married or otherwise, he would have pursued if the 
fancy had taken him, without the least fear of the 
knives of her kinsfolk, but this seemed different. He 
143; 


144 LOST SHEEP 


had seen Amine argue Hassan Ali down, and during 
the time he had been in her presence had felt her 
influence on himself, and he knew that she was no 
common woman. Also he felt that whether from caprice 
or some other motive she wished to attach him to her- 
self, and he had not the slightest desire to contract a 
serious liaison with any woman, however attractive, 
and above all with one not of European blood. He 
knew too well how often with a woman of the East 
poison or steel repays a real or fancied slight, or are 
used to put an inconvenient lover out of the way. 
Hassan Ah’s, or anyone else’s views on the subject, 
he regarded with serene indifference. 

At this time also he was extremely hard worked, 
so much so, in fact, that he had little or no time for 
thoughts about love affairs, legitimate or otherwise. 
A draft had left Ain Sefra for Sidi-bel- Abbes en route for 
Tonkin; consequently the garrison was short-handed, 
and the mounted company, greatly to its disgust, had 
to take its turn of guards and fatigues with the rest, 
in addition to its other work. Desrolles was one of 
the men who composed the draft. He had continued 
his habit of deserting at every possible opportunity, 
never misbehaving himself in any other way, but simply 
finishing his punishment for one desertion, and then 
on the very first occasion which offered itself repeating 
the offence. He never got far enough away to come 
to any serious harm, being invariably captured by a 
native policeman or friendly Arab within an hour's 
walk of the station, but the authorities were beginning 
to get a little tired of this special form of diversion, 
and decided to give him a change of air and scene, 
in the hope of curing his special form of cafard. 

For one thing there was a standing reward of twenty- 


A CONVERSATION WITH DESROLLES 145 


five francs offered for every deserting Legionary brought 
in, and after Desrolles’ third or fourth escapade of this 
kind, his chef de bataillon began to look on him in the 
light of a somewhat expensive luxury, and thought 
that somebody else might as well have the guardian- 
ship of him for a little. 

One day, just before the draft left, Jim entered a 
barrack-room casually, and found Desrolles sitting on 
a bed. Although Desrolles had not received, or seemed 
to desire any promotion, the two had remained excellent 
friends in private, and in public also as far as the 
discipline of the Legion, which sternly represses any 
intimacy between non-commissioned officers and men, 
permitted, and Jim greeted Desrolles with a friendly 
nod. 

“So we are going to lose you, Lunettes,” he said. 
“ How are you going to like Tonkin, do you think ? ” 

Desrolles favoured him with a beaming smile. 

“ Yes, you are going to lose me,” he replied. “ Tragic 
for the battalion, isn’t it. Still, the old man thinks 
I want a change of air. So do I — I've thought so for 
a long time. And I’m not going to like Tonkin at 
all, because I’m going there, peaudezebie.” 1 

“ You’d better be careful, mon vieux ,” Jim replied. 
“ If you try going en pompe on the voyage you’ll 
get shot, and if you try it when you get to Tonkin 
the Chinese will get hold of you, and crucify you or 
cut you to little bits.” 

Desrolles wrinkled his nose. “The Chinese are 
barbarians,” he remarked. “ They revolt me. So do 
the Arabs. So does the Legion.” 

“I know that ,” hazarded Jim, but Desrolles waved 
his hand for silence. 


K 


!Not at all; 


146 LOST SHEEP 


“ I repeat, the Legion revolts me," he continued. 
“ A man can’t even die in it and be buried with his 
own head on his shoulders ! ” 

J im stared at him. “ What the devil are you driving 
at now ? ” he queried. 

“ Just what I say,” returned Desrolles. “ You 
know Steinhaus ? ” 

Jim shook his head. 

44 Well,” continued Desrolles, 44 he’s dead. He used 
to sleep in the next bed to me. He got taken bad 
with something in the head, and they took him to 
hospital, and he died there.” 

Jim nodded. About a week before there had been 
an outbreak of meningitis, to which several men had 
succumbed. Desrolles took up his tale. 

“ Well, as I say,” he continued, “ Steinhaus used 
to sleep in the next bed to me, and they wanted him 
officially identified before they planted him. So they 
sent the sergeant-major and me across to the hospital 
to do it. Well, we got into uniform, the chef and I, 
and over we went to the hospital. There was the 
usual gang there, you know them, mon vieux, Favieres, 
Chopin, O’Reilly, every schemer in the company. 
Well, we hadn’t come there to see those beauties — had 
seen them a d — d sight too often, in fact, so on we 
went to the mortuary. 

“ The chef takes off his kepi , and says, 4 Bon jour, 
messieurs et mesdames. > There wasn’t anyone there 
except the hospital sergeant and the sister — but the 
chef wanted to be polite. 4 Hallo,’ says the hospital 
sergeant, ‘ what do you want here, sergeant-major ? ’ 
‘ Oh,’ says the chef , ‘ we’ve come here, this man and 
me, to identify the Legionary Steinhaus, who has just 
died of meningitis.’ 4 Right,’ says the sergeant, 4 here 


A CONVERSATION WITH DESROLLES 147 


he is.' Poor old Steinhaus was in his coffin and we 
looked at him for a minute, and then the chef says, 
4 Right/ But I looked again, and found I didn’t 
recognise old Steinhaus, so I said : ' Wait a minute, 
that's not him ! ’ * What,’ says the chef , ‘ that’s not 

him?’ 'No/ 'Are you maboull ’ 1 says the chef . 
' Not me,’ I said. ‘ I know Steinhaus. We’ve been 
in the same company ever since we’ve been in 
the Legion, and that’s not him.’ ' I tell you it 
is ,’ says the chef. ' I tell you it isn’t.’ ' It is.’ 
' It isn’t.’ 

“ Well, we kept on like that for about an hour, and 
at last the chef wanted to put me under arrest for con- 
tradicting him. ' All the same, this man may be right,’ 
says the sergeant. ‘ We had three die last night of 
the same thing : Steinhaus, a man of the joyeux 2 
and a corporal. The doctor cut their heads off to 
make an autopsy, and perhaps they’ve got mixed ! ’ 
When the sergeant had gone to see about it, the chef 
says to me, ' It’s a bit thick, you know, in this d — d 
Legion. In any other life a man can keep his own 
head to himself when he’s decently dead.’ Back comes 
the sergeant with something under a cloth, and puts 
it in the coffin. The chef hardly looks this time, but 
just says, ‘.Right, I identify him,’ but I looked, and, 
mon vieux, it wasn’t old Steinhaus this time either ! 
So I told the chef so. But he wanted to get away, 
and he swore that it was , and then we had another 
argument. 

“ At last the sergeant goes out and gets another 
one, and it was all right this time. But you should 
have heard the chef talk to the sergeant. He said 
that doctors would go to hell for cutting dead people 
1 Mad. 2 Disciplinary companies. 


148 LOST SHEEP 


up, which the Pope had strictly forbidden, and he said 
the sergeant would go there for being a clumsy fool. 
Then he said quite a lot of other things, and the sister 
ordered him out of the room for swearing. But, mon 
vieux, if it hadn't been for me, poor old Steinhaus 
would have been buried with the wrong head on his 
shoulders, and, do you know, Eve been wondering ever 
since if the body was his either, because if it wasn't 
there'll be a mix-up on the last day, and it will be all 
the sergeant's fault 1 " 

Jim rose. “ Never mind about other men’s heads, 
mon salop,” he said, “ what you've got to do is to keep 
your own on your shoulders, and if the Tonkinois get 

hold of you " he tapped the back of his neck to 

show what Desrolles' probable fate would be, but the 
latter only grinned. 

“ I told you I'm not going to Tonkin,” he said. “ As 
I say, the Chinese are barbarous brutes who revolt 
my finer feelings. I’ve often heard of London. I 
think I shall settle there ! Of course the climate is 
atrocious, but, since Paris doesn’t want me, I renounce 
her 1 ” 

Jim stifled a quick sigh which the mention of Lon- 
don had drawn from him. Sun in Hyde Park, fog and 
mud on the Embankment, he felt that he would give 
five years of his life to see either of them now for five 
minutes. To the English exile London with all her 
grimness is England, and the sound of the name had 
brought up pictures which were perhaps better for- 
gotten to his mind's eye. 

But his face was steady and his laugh natural as he 
answered Desrolles. 

“ London ? ” he said. “ Oh, yes, fine city. Well, 
mon vieux , I hope you have luck ; perhaps we may run 


A CONVERSATION WITH DESROLLES 149 


across each other there some day ! Now, I must be 
getting back. Oh, by the way, you’ve had a better 
education than I’ve had, can you tell me what the 
Senussi is ? ” 

Desrolles looked rather surprised. 

“ The Senussi,” he repeated. “ I don’t know very 
much about it — no white man does, I take it. But 
what do you want to know about it for ? ” 

“ Nothing much,” Jim replied, “ just curiosity. I 
heard the word mentioned — sort of secret society, 
isn’t it ? — and thought you might know something 
about it.” 

Desrolles considered a few minutes. 

“ It’s a sort of Mohammedan secret society,” he then 
said. “ It got started about eighty or ninety years 
ago with the object of purifying the Moslem religion — • 
sort of reformation, you know — and since then has 
been growing steadily. No one knows how many 
members it has exactly, but there must be millions 
of them. In the time of the last chief, Senussi-el-Mahdi, 
they didn’t do much except proselytise, but now they 
have another chief ; who he is nobody seems to be very 
certain of, but anyhow the Senussi is waking up, and 
the authorities know it. The Turks don’t like the 
movement either. You know, the Senussi say the 
Turks are a rotten lot — bad Moslems, and all that — • 
and as the Sultan is a sort of pope to the faithful he 
doesn’t care to be criticised. And there’s a story 
going about some woman who has a lot to do with the 
Senussi at present. Whatever it is, it seems to have 
caught on with the Arabs. They say this woman can 
work magic and has all the djinns of the desert at her 
command. Anyhow, there’ll probably be trouble 
with the Senussi one of these days, and I think, when 


i5o LOST SHEEP 


it comes, that we’re going to be very sorry for our- 
selves 1 ” 

Jim looked at Desrolles admiringly. 

“ Where did you get hold of all that ? ” he 
asked. 

Desrolles laughed. “ Oh, Bim told me most of it,” 
he said, “ and I found out the rest by keeping my ears 
open.” 

“ And,” asked Jim, “ who may ‘ Bim ’ be ? ” 

“ Bim,” returned the other, “ Oh, Bim is Abdullah 
ben Ibrahim. I call him Bim for short. He likes me. 
So does his daughter. Bim gets twenty-five francs 
from the Government every time he brings 'me in, 
and I believe he’s getting to look on me as a kind of 
investment. I expect he’ll miss me when I go. He 
tells me lots of interesting things. You'd be more 
valuable as a sous-off. if you tried to improve your 
mind like me, instead of hanging round barracks.” 

Jim grinned. “ You’re a wonderful chap,” he said, 
“ and I wouldn’t be surprised if you did something 
big some day, unless you come to a bad end first, 
which you probably will. Well, I must get off. 
Good luck, mon vieux, and mind the Chinese don’t 
get you 1 ” 

Desrolles grinned again, and shook hands with him, 
and as Jim left the room he could hear him singing to 
himself at the top of his voice the old song of the 
Legion, L’Empereur de Danemark. 

u C’est Tempereur de Dan’mark 
Mark, Mark, Mark, Mark, 

Qui a dit a sa moiti6 
‘ Depuis quelqu’ temps je remarque 
Mark, Mark, Mark, Mark, 

Que tu sens ben fort les pieds ! * 


A CONVERSATION WITH DESROLLES 151 


C’est la reine Pomar6 
R6, R6, R6, R6, 

Qui a pour tout’ tenue 
Au milieu de T6t6 
Te, T6, T6, Te, 

Un tuyau de pip’ dans 1* 

Jim had got out of hearing by the time the song had 
reached this point, which was as well for his modesty. 
The further details of the costume, or lack of the same, 
of Queen Pomare, and her adventures with the amorous 
monarch of Denmark are calculated to make anyone 
except a Legionary blush. 

Jim was sorry to part with Desrolles. He had 
always liked him, and found him an entertaining com- 
panion and a good comrade. He wondered how 
Desrolles would get on in Tonkin, and if he would ever 
get there, which he doubted. But in the Legion a 
man has other things to think of than comrades who 
pass out of his life, whether by change of garrison or by 
death, and Jim soon dismissed Desrolles from his mind, 
knowing that that gentleman was perfectly capable of 
looking after himself, an opinion which was well 
founded. 

Some months after, Jim received a letter from a fellow- 
sergeant who had accompanied the draft to Tonkin. 
Among other items of the voyage it contained the 
following : 

“You remember Lunettes ? Well, he gave U3 
the slip at last. You know that we had a draft 
of marine infantry on board, and, as usual, before 
we had been three days at sea our fellows fell foul 
of them. When we were coaling at Port Said we were 
right against the quay, and they shoved double sentries 
on the gangways with loaded rifles to prevent deser- 


152 


LOST SHEEP 


tions. Each gangway had one sentry from the Legion, 
and one from the marsouins, so that if one of the 
colos tried to go en j>ompe our man might be 
trusted to wing him, and if a Legionary tried to make 
off, the marsouin might be trusted to do the same. 
Well, on one of the gangways our man and the mar- 
souin were standing opposite each other, glaring like 
two mad cows, when up walks M. Lunettes. He starts 
talking to them, and I don’t know what he said, but 
in about a minute they had dropped their rifles, and 
were fighting on the deck. As soon as they got well 
mixed up, Lunettes simply walked ashore over the 
gang-plank. The marsouin saw him, and picked 
up his rifle and let rip. Of course he missed Lunettes 
— he says the Legionary struck his arm up — but he hit a 
donkey in the town about a mile away, and within 
half an hour we had a lot of officials down, wanting 
explanations. In the meanwhile Lunettes had vanished ; 
but he turned up again the next day the d — dest 
swell you ever saw, in white linen clothes and a pith 
helmet. He came down and walked up and down on 
the quay, where of course we couldn’t touch him, 
and every time P6re Blanchet (the major) came on 
deck, he would ask him how his wife was, and describe 
what she was doing in his absence. I suppose he will 
be all right. Anyhow, he is better off than in this 
chien d'un metier. This is a filthy country, etc. etc.” 

Jim was glad to hear that Desrolles had escaped a 
bullet, but, as will be seen, by the time that he received 
this letter his own personal affairs were engrossing him 
to the exclusion of everything else. 

As he went back to his own quarters he was thinking 
about what Desrolles had told him on the subject of 


A CONVERSATION WITH DESROLLES 153 


the Senussi. He had been quite long enough in the 
East to know that almost anyone who sets himself 
up as a prophet can obtain disciples, and that his power 
for mischief to the established order of things is only 
bounded by the number of these he can obtain and his 
personal influence over them. 

The desert Arab lives in hope of a “ Jehad ” or holy 
war against the infidel — less on religious grounds than 
because it seems to his untutored mind to open up 
an endless prospect of loot. What Jim could not 
understand was, a woman being mixed up in the 
affair. As a rule, in the East, woman is kept severely 
in her place, and only emerges to take the lead perhaps 
once in a thousand years. Still, Jim knew what a 
reputation for occult powers will do for its possessor 
— be the same male or female — in the East. To the 
Arab the wildest happenings of the Arabian Nights 
are not only possible, but under certain circumstances 
probable ; and any would-be Mahdi who can make 
a sufficient show of knowledge of dawat 1 can com- 
mand an enormously greater degree of influence than 
one who bases his claim simply on the support of 
Allah and the Prophet. Still, if there was going to 
be trouble with the Senussi or anyone else, so much 
the better, Jim thought. 

The Legionary is the modern equivalent of the 
mercenary soldier of the Middle Ages in everything 
except pay, and he thrives on active service as he does 
on nothing else. Under its influence cafard 
vanishes as if by magic, and men who in barracks are 
little better than monomaniacs become almost sane 
again, and with most of the men it disappears 
altogether. 


1 Magic. 


I 54 


LOST SHEEP 


In one way the Legionary is like an animal of the 
jungle. Put him in barracks with their monotony, 
and he becomes surly and dangerous to himself and 
others, place him in his proper surroundings — the 
march, or battlefield — and he becomes what he is by 
nature, the soldier par excellence. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE PROTECTION OF “ THE OTHERS ” 

A BOUT a week after Jim's conversation with 
Desrolles the order came for the mounted 
company to proceed to Douargala. The men 
were rather glad of it than otherwise. True, 
Douargala was a hole — the last place God made, the 
back of beyond — but there was always the chance of 
active service, and for that the Legionary will forgive 
much discomfort in his surroundings. Besides, with 
the exception of a company of Goumiers , 1 there were 
no other troops there, and discipline would probably 
be slackened. Captain Faes was a wise man, and 
saw no use in holding his men on a tight rein when 
there was no reason for it. The Legionary is an adept 
at getting into mischief when there is the slightest 
chance of doing so, but a station like Douargala 
taxes even his ingenuity in this respect. Also, fond 
as the Legionary is of going en pompe , in the face 
of a prospect of active service, however remote, he 
generally prefers to endure the hardships of his lot, 
keeping the other excitement as a treat until quieter 
times. 

For two or three days Jim had been very busy seeing 
to saddlery and distribution of cartridges and new kit. 
By this time the mules were broken to their work, and 
1 Native levies. 

J 55 


156 LOST SHEEP 


the mounted company were beginning to shape well. 
It was noticeable that they had begun to look down, 
with the scorn of the mounted man for the foot-soldier, 
on their comrades who were remaining with the 
battalion, and already there had been several fights 
on the subject, and relations were, to say the least of 
it, becoming strained. Altogether, in the interests 
of peace, it was just as well that the move was taking 
place. 

One evening, Jim was returning to his quarters from 
the quartermaster’s store, where he had been drawing 
saddlery for his squad. As he was approaching the 
quay tier, or barracks, of the mounted company, he 
noticed that he was being followed by an Arab, who was 
wrapped from head to foot in a dirty white haik. 
Just as he was entering the gate of the quartier, 
the Arab drew level with him, and regarded him 
keenly. 

“ El Sergent Lingardi ? ” he queried. 

Jim nodded, and the Arab fumbled in the breast 
of his robe and produced a scrap of paper which he 
handed to Jim, remarking as he did so, “ Ins’allah.” 

Jim took the paper and looked at it. There was no 
address on it, and he turned to the Arab. 

“ For me ? ” he queried. 

The Arab nodded vigorously. 

“ El sergent Lingardi,” he said, and then, apparently 
as an afterthought, “ bacshish ? ” 

Jim gave him a couple of small coins, and he dis- 
appeared into the gathering dusk. 

Jim slipped the note into his pocket, and waited until 
he found himself alone before he read it. It was very 
short. “ Come and see me to-morrow night,” it ran, 
“ come without fail. I want to see you before 


THE PROTECTION OF " THE OTHERS” 157 


you go to Douargala.” The note was written in 
pencil, and signed simply “A,” but Jim knew whom 
it was from. 

He frowned rather irritably. He was not at all 
sure that he wanted to visit the house in the garden 
again. Amine was certainly extraordinarily fascinat- 
ing — the most fascinating woman he had ever met — 
but there had been an atmosphere, intangible enough, 
certainly, but still distinct, about both her and 
tho house which had made him uneasy. What the 
atmosphere of the place was, he could not explain 
even to himself, but he felt vaguely that there was 
something wrong with the place, as if it were being used 
as a habitation by some one or Something whose 
presence was not quite natural — or at any rate not 
natural in ordinary surroundings. Also he had not 
liked the power which the girl Amine had shown of 
extracting information from him. In response to her 
questions he had told her all his most secret thoughts 
and aspirations — thoughts which he had only half 
acknowledged even to himself, and he could not under- 
stand why he had done so, and was inclined to be angry 
with himself on the subject. 

Still he felt that he wanted to go. He did not like 
the house, he did not like the atmosphere, he did not 
like the secrecy of the whole business ; and he was 
far from certain that he liked the girl Amine ; but still 
he could not conceal from himself that he wanted to 
see her again. He could not get the recollection of her 
as he had seen her last, in her red silk robe, lying back 
on her cushions, with the dark eyes shining underneath 
the lowered lids, and also, sad to relate, he could not 
forget the feeling of her soft arms around his neck 
and her warm lips against his. 


158 LOST SHEEP 


The whole episode had been very reprehensible, 
from the point of view of the moralist, but, unfor- 
tunately, Jim Lingard was not, and never had been, 
a moralist. He was anything but a vicious man, that 
is to say, he did not seek vice for its own sake, and 
despised men who did ; but he had always taken what 
good things the gods had sent him, without troubling 
to think whether it was “ right ” or “ wrong ” to do so. 
He was too lazy constitutionally to run after any 
woman, but if a woman came to him she could count 
most confidently on being met considerably more than 
half-way. He had entered on this adventure in the 
first place from sheer boredom, and had continued it 
from pique at the mockery in Amine's eyes. However, 
he thought to himself that one more visit would do no 
harm to anyone. He was going away in a couple of 
days, and would probably never see the girl again. 
In fact, the incident would be closed, and he could see 
no reason why he should not gratify his desire for 
another glimpse of her. He decided to put any feelings 
of uneasiness he had aside, and to do as Amine had 
asked him. 

Jim found considerable difficulty in obtaining leave 
even for one night. His sergent fourrier , 1 who had 
counted on his assistance in preparing lists of 
equipment need, waxed blasphemous on the sub- 
ject; Lieutenant de Morsec showed keen curiosity 
as to what attraction he could possibly find in Ain 
Sefra, and even implored him to reveal “ who the 
lady was," and Captain Faes was unsympathetic, 
but after a great deal of trouble Jim obtained his 
leave, accompanied by awful warnings of what would 
happen if he overstayed it by one half-minute. 

1 Quartermaster-sergeant, 


THE PROTECTION OF “THE OTHERS ” 159 


Still, Jim had got his leave, and the next evening, 
soon after sunset, found him at the house in the garden. 

The night was very dark, so dark that Jim had to 
grope his way through the shrubs, and actually found 
himself touching the wall of the house before he had 
any idea that he had arrived at it. 

Amine had mentioned no time for his visit, and he 
waited for a moment in the veranda, hardly knowing 
what to do or where to look for an entrance. Then 
a window close to him opened noiselessly and a voice 
whispered, “To the right, and open the door.” 

He moved a few steps along the veranda and after 
a few moment’s search found a door, which opened 
to the pressure of his hand. He entered, and found 
himself in a passage which was in darkness. Then 
another door further up the passage was opened, and 
the darkness was lit by a lamp which was carried by 
Amine. She drew back into the room behind her, 
motioned Jim to follow her and, placing the lamp on 
the table, seated herself on the divan. Jim followed 
and closed the door behind him. 

Amine smiled. “ So you have come,” she said. 
“ That is very good of you. I wanted to see you before 
you left. You go to Douargala to-morrow, don’t you ? ” 

Jim nodded. “ Yes, so far as I know,” he said. 

“ Yes,” said Amine. “ The mounted company go 
to Douargala to-morrow, and they are sending other 
troops there as well besides the Goumiers. The Govern- 
ment are going to make a large camp there l ” 

Jim looked at her in surprise. 

“ Are they ? ” he said, “ what for ? Douargala 
is of no importance to anyone as far as I know ; I 
don’t even know why they are sending us there.” 

The girl laughed. 


LOST SHEEP 


160 


“ Oh/' she said, “ the Government is not alto- 
gether foolish — at least not always. Douargala is of 
no importance now, but suppose, mind, only suppose, 
an enemy was coming up from the South and East, 
what then ? " 

Jim considered a moment. “ Oh, in that case," 
he said, “ it might be rather important. You see, it 
more or less controls the caravan route. But I don’t 
see what danger there is from the South, except the 
Touaregs, and they are always there. Any danger is far 
more likely to come from the West — from Morocco." 

“ Nevertheless," the girl returned, “ the Government 
know more than you think they do, and I think you 
will not find Douargala as dull as you think it is going 
to be. There are other people in the desert beside 
the Touaregs who do not like the Government." 

She motioned to him to come and sit on the divan 
beside her, and he crossed the room and did so. 

It struck him that she was amazingly well informed 
about the plans of the French Government. Beyond 
knowing that a mounted company was going to 
Douargala in the ordinary course of duty, there had 
not been a whisper at Ain Sefra of any movement of 
troops or formation of a new station. He concluded 
that news had filtered from the officers’ mess through 
native servants into the town, and that probably 
Amine had in turn received it from her own servants. 

“ Well," he said, “ anywhere will be better than 
Ain Sefra, and if they send more troops there we shall 
have all the lighter time." 

The girl turned towards him. 

“ I do not think you will have a very easy time," 
she said, “not for long, at any rate. Now, I want to 
know, do you trust me? " 


THE PROTECTION OF “THE OTHERS " 161 


Jim was rather surprised. 

“ Trust you ? " he repeated, “ yes, of course I do. 
If I did not trust you I should not be here alone. 
Why ? " 

The girl leant forward and took his hands. 

“ Because/' she said, “ I want you to trust me abso- 
lutely. You are going to Douargala to-morrow, 
I know that you will be in danger there, and I want to 
give you the Protection, but I can only give it with 
your own consent." 

Jim looked at her in surprise. 

“ Protection ? " he echoed, “ what Protection ?/’ 

The girl made a gesture of impatience. “ Oh, you 
Rounds ! " she said rather angrily. “You always 
want to know what and why. I mean the Protection 
of the Desert, and I want you to have it — because — 
because — oh, because of this,” and Jim felt her lips 
warm against his. “You will let me give it to you ? ” 
and she looked into his eyes. 

Jim thought for a moment. If the girl had meant 
him any harm, she could have done it to him on either 
of his previous visits. As to the mysterious “ Protec- 
tion " of which she spoke, he knew quite well the value 
attached by Arabs and also by many men of the Legion 
to certain charms and amulets, which were supposed 
to bring the happy possessor much luck. 

“ Oh, yes," he said. “ But what have I got to do ? " 
The girl stood up. 

“You must take off any metal you have on you," 
she said. “ Yes," as Jim took off his belt and bayonet, 
“ your boots too, and any money you have in your 
pockets. Now watch me." 

Jim saw her go over to a brazier which was smoulder- 
ing in a corner of the room, take up a small box that 

L 


162 LOST SHEEP 


was on| a able beside it, and sprinkle something 
on the fire. . Almost instantly the room grew full of a 
thick, greenish smoke, with a most peculiar but not 
unpleasant odour. 

He found a difficulty in breathing and could feel 
the pulses in his ears throbbing like engines. Then the 
room seemed to^grow strangely dark — darker even than 
the smoke had made it — and it seemed to him that 
he was moving backwards, away from himself, at a 
tremendous pace. As he expressed it afterwards : 
“ I was sitting there, and all the same I was miles 
away/’ Then all sense of motion stopped, and he 
seemed to be in darkness, a darkness filled with a noise 
as of the beat of mighty wings, and when that noise died 
down he was conscious of nothing except darkness, 
of darkness which was almost tangible, and which 
closed and enveloped him on all sides. 


The girl left the brazier, crossed the room, and 
looked at the divan. The man on it was lying back 
with his teeth clenched, his eyes wide open and 
vacant, and beyond a slight, a very slight movement 
of breathing, absolutely motionless. She put her 
hand on his forehead, looked in his eyes and, turning, 
clapped her hands sharply. Almost immediately 
the door opened and a man entered. He was very 
small, very old, and walked feebly with the aid of a 
stick. As he entered, he made a profound obeisance. 
The girl pointed to the figure on the couch. 

“ This is the man,” she said, “ now do what you 
have to do.” 

The old man approached the sofa, looked, and turned 
to the girl. 


THE PROTECTION OF “THE OTHERS” 163 


“ Highness,” he quavered, “ I cannot give the 

Protection to a Roumi — an Infidel — I ” but the 

girl interrupted. 

“ Cannot ? ” she echoed. “You will do as I say — • 
you forget who I am. I wish this man to have the 
Protection as far as you can give it to him.” 

The old man shook his head again. 

“ I dare not,” he said. “If my lord Hassan Ali 
ever knew what I had done, or that a Roumi had 
been here ” 

“You would die in a very unpleasant fashion,’ 1 
the girl returned. “ Well, Hassan Ali will not know. 
Even if he did you would find it better to obey me. 
There have been people who preferred their own 
wishes to mine, Abs’laam, and — well, as I say* 
there have been those foolish people. Do you know 
where they are now, Abs’laam ? Now, get to your 
work.” 

The old man trembled, and turned again to the 
couch. 

“ Your Highness will protect me? ” he queried. 

The girl nodded. “ I will hold you safe,” she 
answered. “Now do what you have to do, and 
quickly 1 ” 

Abs’laam bent over the figure on the divan. 

“ Protection against lead and steel I can give 
him,” he said, “ but not against the diseases which 
Allah sends. Power the Great Ones have, but no 
power to interfere with the decrees of the All-mighty, 
the All-merciful.” 

The girl stamped her foot. 

“ Stop prating,” she said, “ and get to your work, 
time presses 1 ” 

The old man removed Jim’s tunic, and opened 


164 LOST SHEEP 


his shirt at the neck. Then he took something from 
the breast of his robe, and, going over to the brazier, 
scattered several handfuls of some substance into it. 
Instantly the smoke rose thicker than ever, filling 
the room from side to side like a solid wall. Like a 
wall, too, it divided the room into two parts. On 
one side was the divan with the prostrate figure on 
it, and on the other was the wall of rolling smoke, 
changing almost every moment from red to purple, 
and from purple to green. The bent figure of the 
old man had straightened, and he was standing with 
his arms outstretched, uttering words which seemed 
to fill the room — Azimah, Danhausch, Naviroth, 
Elbazan, and other names — and behind the wall of 
smoke the air seemed to be full of the rush and beat 
of mighty wings. 

Darker and darker grew the room, and louder and 
louder grew the sound of wings, as if the owners of the 
names were hastening to answer some one who had 
called them. 

The room became quite dark, with the exception of 
one ray of light, which rested for a moment on the 
figure on the divan, then the darkness lifted again 
and the room was as it had been, except for a few 
wreaths of strange-coloured smoke, which drifted 
towards the roof. 

Both Amine and the old man were shaking. 

Abs’laam turned and bowed towards the girl. 

“ I have done what I could, Highness,” he said. 
“ The others have been here — you heard and saw ? ” 

Amine nodded doubtfully. “ I heard — yes ” 

she said. “As to seeing, I do not know. Still, he,” 
and she pointed to the couch, “ has the Protection ? ” 

“ He has the Protection against enemies,” answered 


THE PROTECTION OF “THE OTHERS” 165 


the old man, “ also neither steel nor lead can hurt him 
for a year from now. I have done what your Highness 
asked, so far as I had the power — I have your High- 
ness' promise to hold me harmless from my lord ? ” 

The girl pointed to the door. 

“ Go,” she said, “ and rest easy. Those who serve 
Amine of the Senussi have nothing to fear. Go 
quickly; he is waking.” 

It seemed to Jim Lingard that he traversed millions 
of miles of dark space, and that now he was coming 
at a dizzy speed back to Something, which he 
vaguely realised was partly himself. The two selves 
seemed to merge into each other like two drops of 
water and the two become one self, and then he opened 
his eyes. He was lying on the divan, nude to the 
waist, and his head was dizzy, but clearing every 
moment. The whole room was full of a strong smell 
that took him by the back of the throat and made 
his eyes water. 

Jim sat up and looked around him, then snatched 
his tunic from the cushions beside him and draped 
it round his shoulders, as he saw that Amine was 
beside him, and looking at him anxiously. 

“So you have come back?” she said. 

Jim put his hand to his forehead. 

“ I did not know that I had been away,” he said. 
“ I must have been asleep. What has happened ? ” 

The girl smiled. 

“ Nothing,” she said. “You have got what I 
wanted to give you. And now you must go. It is 
not safe for you to stay here any longer.” 

Jim was struggling into his tunic. His head was 
still rather giddy. 


1 66 LOST SHEEP 


“ I don’t understand,” he began, but Amine stopped 
him. 

“ Do not try to,” she said. “ Only remember that 
from this on you have the Protection of the Lords of 
the Desert. And now you must go ! ” 

She stepped up to him, put her arms round his neck 
and kissed him again, then pushing him into the 
passage, led him along it and through the door. 

“ Good-bye,” she said; “ not good-bye though, for I 
shalljsee you again soon. To-night I go South to my 
own people, and before long you will come South too. 
The Lords of the Desert will bring you to me safely ! ” 
Once more her lips met his, and then he was alone in 
the garden. He could never tell how he got back to his 
quarters that night. He remembered leaving the gar- 
den, and the next thing he had any clear recollection 
of was the Ta-ra-ra-rappp of the trumpet as it sounded 
the reveille next morning. 


CHAPTER XV 


LES JOYEUX 

A S the first clear notes of the trumpet cut the air 
Jim swung himself off his cot on to his feet. 
He had not the remotest recollection of how 
he had returned to barracks. His head was clear 
enough now and he was feeling perfectly well, so he 
concluded that he could not have been drunk the night 
before. But what on earth had happened to him in the 
house in the garden, he wondered ? He remembered 
distinctly sitting on the divan and watching Amine, and 
then everything had gone dark and the next thing he 
remembered was that he had woke up on the couch, 
with half his clothes off. Had she tried to rob him, he 
wondered, and then laughed at the idea, Legionaries 
as a rule do not carry anything worth taking on them. 
And what had Amine meant by the talk about the 
“ Lords of the Desert ? ” Jim was extremely puzzled 
by the whole affair, but at present had no time to give 
any further thought to it. 

A corporal entered the room, saluted hurriedly — in 
the French army, sergeants are saluted by men of a 
lower grade — and remarking, “ The captain wants you, 
sergeant/' disappeared at a run. 

Jim followed him. Some of the men were getting 
the mules out of the stable, others were overhauling 
their kit and saddlery, and others who had finished 
167 


168 LOST SHEEP 


were keeping a watchful eye on their belongings to see 
that none of their comrades who happened to be short 
of articles of equipment “decorated" themselves at 
the last moment. 

Captain Faes and Lieutenant de Morsec were both 
on the parade ground. The younger officer favoured 
Jim with a sympathetic smile delivered behind his 
superior's back, but the captain looked stern. 

“ Well, sergeant," he began, “ I cannot compli- 
ment you on your appearance this morning 1 You 
look as if you had been out of bed all night. However, 
as it is our last night in a town for some time, I suppose 
it is to be excused. Get your peloton saddled up and 
on the march as soon as you can, the sooner we get 
away from here the sooner we get to Douargala." 

Jim saluted and turned away to carry out the cap- 
tain's orders. By this time most of the men were fully 
dressed and equipped, and it did not take long to get 
the saddles on the mules and the men mounted. Jim 
reported “ all present and correct " to Lieutenant de 
Morsec, and the advance party started, pursued by 
rude remarks from the men of the battalion which 
remained behind, and who had turned out to see the 
departure of the mounted detachment. 

As it made its way through the town, the column 
passed the house in the garden, and Jim noticed that, 
although it was by this time comparatively late in 
the morning, the windows were closed, and that there 
was no sign of life about it. 

The column cleared the outskirts of the town, the 
command “ March at ease" was given and scraps of 
conversation in many tongues began to be heard. The 
Legionary on the march is a cheerful person, even 
when encumbered with from sixty to eighty pounds of 


LES JOYEUX 


169 


kit, besides a rifle and ammunition, and marching on 
his own feet under a temperature of ioo° in the shade, 
and now the men of the mounted company were very 
pleased with themselves. They had not to march, 
the morning was reasonably cool, and they were going 
on what might quite likely prove to be active service. 
Added to this, they were getting away from the de- 
tested garrison duty, and after a little time voices 
began to rise in the marching song of the Legion, 
Le Boudin , the whole column taking up the chorus : 

“ Tiens, voil& du boudin 
Voil& du boudin 
Voil& du boudin 

Pour les Alsaciens, les Suisses et les Lorraines 
Pour les Beiges il n’y en a plus ! ” 

And then the old song inspired by the deplorable head- 
gear of its first commander, General Bugeaud : 

As-tu vu la casque tte 
La casquette 
De Pdre Bugeaud ? ” 

“P&re Bugeaud/’ as his Legionaries called him, has 
been dust these seventy years, but the fame of his cap — - 
that cap which was ever in the forefront of the hottest 
fight — still lingers in the regiment which he loved so 
well. 

About noon a halt was made under some palm- 
trees, and the midday soup was served to the men. It 
was here that Jim for the first and last time saw the 
famous punishment of crapaudine applied. For 
some distance along the road, before arriving at the 
grove where the column had halted, Jim had noticed 
gangs of men, dressed in a semi-military uniform of 
brown canvas, and engaged, some in roadmaking, and 


170 LOST SHEEP 


others in breaking stones, under the guard of native 
soldiers of the Algerian Tirailleurs, in their gorgeous 
Zouave uniform of light blue and yellow. Here and 
there among the workmen moved men in the uniform 
of sous-officiers of the French army, armed with re- 
volvers. Jim did not recognise the uniform, and 
asked a fellow-sergeant what these men were. 

The other grinned. “ Joyeux — Bats. d’Aff,” he 
said. “Nice time they seem to be having, don’t 
they ? I wouldn’t care to change my job with one 
of their sergeants. Did you notice that they never 
took their hands from their revolver butts ? No, 
Dieu de Dieu ! the Legion is bad enough, but to do 
garde-chiourme to the joyeux — merci, mon ami ! ” 

Jim was interested. He had often heard of these 
regiments of joyeux or Zephyrs ; so called, pre- 
sumably, because no joy or lightness ever entered 
their life. If the life in the compagnies de discipline , 
which are punishment companies reserved for offenders 
against military law, was purgatory, that in the 
Zephyrs was supposed to be hell. Recruited entirely 
from criminals who had been convicted before their 
time came to do their military service, and so reckoned 
by the authorities unfit to mix with and contaminate 
other soldiers, and officered both in the commissioned 
and non-commissioned ranks by men picked for their 
severity, their life under the Algerian sun is made up 
of work of the hardest possible description. Small 
wonder that the percentage of suicides is high and only 
known to the officers ! 

After the midday soupe, while most of the company 
were resting, Jim strolled back along the road. The 
joyeux were still at their task. Some of them 
looked up at him under the peak of their caps, and 


LES JOYEUX 


171 


muttered to their comrades, only to take up their work 
again at a stern order from a sous-officier. 

Then Jim saw how discipline is preserved in the 
“ Bats. d’Aff.” One of the men engaged in stone- 
breaking looked up as he passed, and leant for a moment 
on his long-handled hammer. Almost immediately 
a sergeant tapped him on the shoulder and pointed 
to the heap of stones beside him, at the same time 
giving a curt order. The man wheeled with a snarl, 
raising his hammer for a blow, only to find himself 
looking into the barrel of a revolver levelled straight 
between his eyes. The sergeant, with his other hand, 
drew a whistle from the breast of his tunic, and blew 
twice on it. At the sound two of the native soldiers 
of the Algerian Tirailleurs came running up. The ser- 
geant pointed to the man in front of him, who had 
dropped his hammer. “ En crapaudine ” he said coldly, 
and the two natives seized the man. 

In a moment he was stripped of his coarse canvas 
clothing and forced on his knees. Then his ankles were 
bound together, as were his wrists behind his back, and 
then the wrists were brought back and tied tightly to 
the ankles. For a few moments the man knelt like this 
in the blazing sunshine, and then, as the fearful cramp 
which the position entails took him, he began to struggle, 
with no other effect than to*cause himself to fall over 
on his side. After a few minutes of this position he 
began to curse horribly. With the foam dripping from 
his mouth and his eyes starting from his head he 
cursed the sergeant, his progenitors, the Zephyrs, and 
the country in language which almost blistered the blue 
sky above, the sergeant standing by all the while with 
a tranquil smile. Then as the agony and the cramp 
grew sharper, the disciplinaire ceased cursing and began 


172 LOST SHEEP 


to howl like a tortured animal. Jim could stand it 
no longer. He went up to the sergeant of the Zephyrs 
and touched him on the shoulder. 

“ Don’t you think that man has had enough of this 
sort of thing ? ” he remarked. For the moment he had 
forgotten that he was of the same rank as the other, and 
spoke to him as an officer speaks to an inferior. 

The other turned and looked him up and down 
with cool contempt. “ Mind your own business, and 
leave me to mind mine, legionnaire ,” he said; “ it is 
for me — me, Sergeant Barbin of the Zephyrs, you 
understand, to say whether he has had enough or not. 
I want no advice from anyone — least of all from a 
legionnaire ! ” 

Jim kept his temper. “ If you keep the man there 
much longer he will die,” he observed. 

The other laughed. “Let him!” he returned; 
“ it will only be one disciplinaire the less. There are 
plenty more where he came from. But he won’t 
die. I know these animals. Here, you,” and he turned 
to a man near him, “ fetch some water ! ” 

The man ceased his work, and went away, returning 
in a minute or so with a pannikin of water, which he 
handed to the sergeant. 

The sergeant took it, and placed it close to the pros- 
trate man’s head. 

“ Want a drink ? ” he queried. 

The man en crapaudine had by this time ceased 
his cries, which had sunk to a low moaning that was 
almost worse to hear, but at the question he raised his 
head, and there was nothing but defiance in his eyes. 

He did not answer. 

“Not yet ? ” pursued the sergeant. “ Are you 
quite certain, mon gars ? ” 


LES JOYEUX 


173 


He picked up a handful of sand and threw it into the 
prostrate man’s face, filling his eyes with the red-hot 
particles. 

“ There,” he remarked, “ now perhaps you will 
do me the favour to answer me when I speak to you. 
Now I want you to show this gentleman the pretty 
tricks that our joyeux can do. Here — ” and he 
put his foot close to the prostrate man’s head — “ I 
see my boot is dirty. Lick it clean, and you can get 
up, and have a drink ! ” 

Still the man on the ground did not move, and the 
sergeant picked up the pannikin of water, and held it 
close to the prisoner’s mouth, letting a few drops trickle 
out and fall on his face. 

“ There,” he observed, “ nice and cool — 
riest-ce pas, mon ami ? ” If you want some more you 
know what you have to do, just let this gentleman see 
you lick my boot so that he can go back and tell them 
in the Legion how we keep discipline in the joyeux ? ” 

He held the water close to the prostrate man’s face 
again, but this time the latter, with a convulsive 
upward movement of his body and head, struck the 
pannikin, dashing the contents into the sergeant’s 
face, and drenching his clothes. 

Jim looked away. His experience in the Legion had 
not tended to soften him, but the scene had made him 
feel physically sick. In the Legion punishment was 
swift and certain even for slight offences, but a man 
was treated as if he were a man, and not a vicious 
animal. He had heard stories of the “ Bats. d’Aff.” 
and knew the terror in which the disciplinary companies 
were held by the men of the Legion, but this was the 
first time he had ever seen deliberate torture applied to 
a man. 


i 7 4 LOST SHEEP 


The sergeant spluttered and wiped his face, and then, 
turning to the man en crapaudine, kicked him twice 
savagely with his heavy boots. 

“ Ah, saligaud ,” he said between his teeth, “ you will 
pay me for this l We shall see if you will be quite as 
lively to-morrow morning after a night en crapaudine. 
Also, let us see if you will be able to move quite so 
freely after I have attended to you a little 1 ” 

He kicked the prostrate man again, and knelt down 
and tightened up his bonds, forcing a scream from 
him as he did so. After he had finished his task he 
drew back and regarded his handiwork with an admir- 
ing eye. Then Jim heard some one behind him 
remark, “|Ah, sergeant ! ” and both sous-officiers 
turned and then hurriedly saluted the new-comer. 

He was an officer of disciplinaries, a middle-aged man 
with a stern face, and beyond returning Jim’s salute 
took no notice whatever of him, but addressed himself 
to his own sergeant. 

“ Ah, sergeant,” he observed drily, “ what have we 
here ? Yes — quite so, as you say — a man. Yes — 
en crapaudine. What for ? Oh, insubordination* How 
long have you been in the Bats. d’Aff, sergeant ? 
Five years ? And you have not learned in five years 
that the punishment of crapaudine can only be 
inflicted under exceptional circumstances, and then 
by an officer ? Will you answer me, sergeant ! Oh, 
you do know that. Quite so. Release that man, ser- 
geant. No,” as the sergeant made a gesture to the 
two Algerian Tirailleurs, “ untie him yourself.” Then 
to the joyeux, who was standing naked and staggering 
from the effects of his punishment, “ Get yourself 
dressed, and go to your quarters. You are excused 
further work to-day.” 


LES JOYEUX 


175 


Then as the man dragged himself away, the officer 
turned again to the sergeant. 

“You will do me fifteen days for disobedience of 
standing orders/' he said coldly, “ and may I ask, 
sergeant ” — pointing to the latter’s soaked tunic — • 
“ have you never learnt ordinary table manners ? 
Disgusting ! You will do me a further fifteen days for 
appearing on duty with your uniform wet. And, 
sergeant, if I hear of you putting men en crapaudine 
again on your own responsibility, I will see that you 
find out from personal experience what it is like. 
Now, go ! ” 

The sergeant saluted, and slunk away. The officer 
turned to Jim. 

“ Legionnaire ? ” he queried. 

Jim saluted. 

“ Ah,” the other remarked, “ come to see the 
joyeux for curiosity, I suppose. And now that you have 
seen them, suppose you get back to your company.” 

Jim saluted, and turned to go, only too glad to do so. 
The neighbourhood of the joyeux was not exactly 
exhilarating, and he felt as if he had entered a different 
plane of existence when he rejoined his comrades under 
the palm-trees. At any rate, broken men as so many 
of them were, they were at least free, and soldiers. 
The joyeux is only a soldier by name, in reality he is 
a convict, and is treated as no convict in any civilised 
country is treated. When one remembers that a 
man may be sent to the “ Bats. d’Aff.” if he has re- 
ceived a sentence of more than three months’ imprison- 
ment before the time arrives for him to do his service, 
and that in France a man may quite easily receive 
three months or more for insulting a policeman, the 
full severity of the system becomes apparent. 


176 LOST SHEEP 


Jim mentioned his experience to another sergeant, 
a man of long service in the Legion. The latter shrug- 
ged his shoulders. “ Que voulez-vous ?” he said. 
* They are mostly brutes, and have to be treated as 
brutes. No matter what they are when they come to 
the joyeux, the life makes them all the same. Cra- 
paudine? Oh yes, I have seen it. It used to be 
a recognised punishment in the Legion, but General 
de Negrier did away with that. Lucky for that 
joyeux the officer turned up, and luckier still for him 
that he had bowels. If he’d been kept there till the 
morning he’d have been dead when they came to cut 
him loose. Merde ! oui, ca pese beseff, la vie des 
joyeux ! ” 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE SENUSSI SHOW THEIR TEETH 

L IFE at Douargala was very much the same in 
all essentials as at Ain Sefra, but with the iron 
discipline considerably slackened. So far no 
other troops had arrived there, and consequently 
beyond the ordinary routine of camp life there was 
very little to do. Captain Faes, however, was too 
good a soldier to let his men rust, and drill and marches 
into the desert were constant. Beyond a plentiful 
crop of rumours, there was no excitement of any 
kind. These latter came in every day, and if they 
did nothing else, provided topics of conversation: 
The Moors had declared a Jehad against the infidel, 
and were over the frontier in thousands. No, it was 
nothing of the sort, Germany had declared war on 
France and the Legion en masse were going to the 
front immediately! Both' the speakers were liars. 
Another man had absolutely authentic information, 
France had at last declared a protectorate over 
Morocco, and the Legion were going there ! 

As a matter of fact, the whole of Algeria seemed to 
be plunged in profound and devastating peace. Even 
the Touaregs of the desert forbore to raid north, and 
confined their operations to districts outside the French 
sphere of influence. Men began to say that life in 
the Legion was not what it used to be. It is a strange 

m 177 


178 LOST SHEEP 


fact that life in any regiment never is. The men of 
ten or twenty years ago are always supermen compared 
with their degenerate descendants of the present day 1 

Then came the first hint of trouble from the South. 
For two days the wireless had been flashing and crack- 
ing, and Captain Faes had been going about looking 
anxious, when early one morning an Arab on a 
camel had ridden in, rocking and swaying in his saddle, 
with a bloodstained bandage round his head, and 
demanded to see “ El Raid.” He had been closeted 
with Captain Faes for the best part of an hour, and 
then the latter had despatched an orderly for Lieutenant 
de Morsec. 

As the lieutenant entered the captain's quarters, 
he found the latter bent over a large map of Southern 
Algeria, and occasionally shooting sharp questions at 
the Arab who had come in. 

Morsec saluted, and the captain turned to him. 

“There is news," he said, “ serious news. This man, 
Achmet Ali, a native officer of Goumiers, has just 
brought it in. He says this Senussi trouble in the South 
has come to a head at last. It seems that the Senussi 
feel themselves strong enough to try a fall with us. 
No, not a Jehad," as Morsec hazarded an observa- 
tion, “ at least not yet. That will come later. What 
has happened now is that they, or a strong party of 
them, have raided north, and at present are camped 
in the oasis of El Rasa, about fifty miles south. Achmet 
Ali says there are about four hundred of them. The 
Government have known this business was coming 
for weeks, but they've hesitated to send troops because 
the Senussi doesn't exist officially, and if they did exist 
would be friendly — also strictly officially. The conse- 
quence is we are short of men here. Now, I want you 


THE SENUSSI SHOW THEIR TEETH 179 


to take your peloton at once, and go to El Rasa to find 
out the state of affairs there.” 

Morsec’s face lit up hopefully. “ And turn them out 
of it ? ” he suggested, but Captain Faes shook his 
head. 

“No,” he answered, “ this is no job for one peloton. 
Douargala must be held, and a whole company isn’t 
enough. I have sent a wireless to Ain Sefra for rein- 
forcements, but in the meanwhile I want to know what 
strength the Senussi really are in at El Rasa, so I am 
sending you to find out. ‘ Go — look — see,’ as they say 
in Tonkin. By the way, isn’t that Englishman Lingard 
in your peloton ? ” 

Morsec nodded, and replied in the affirmative. 

“ Well,” continued the captain, “ he seems a fairly 
good man, and he certainly knows the mounted work. 
I am going to promote him to adjutant, temporarily 
at any rate, and, if he behaves himself and does his 
work well, we shall see what the colonel has to say 
about confirming him in his rank. I must keep Sevon- 
ikoff here. Now go and get your men ready, and 
get off as soon as you possibly can. There is no time 
to be lost.” 

Morsec saluted and withdrew. A few minutes after- 
wards mules were being saddled, and men were 
packing their belongings in preparation for the expedi- 
tion. 

Jim was excessively pleased with his temporary pro- 
motion, the news of which was conveyed to him by 
Morsec in person. Even if his grade were only tem- 
porary he knew that with luck it would be made per- 
manent, and he also knew that in the French army, and 
especially in the Legion, it is not a very far step from 
adjutant to commissioned rank. He had returned 


i8o LOST SHEEP 


his rifle and bayonet into store, obtaining a sword and 
revolver in exchange for them, and as he moved off 
with the company, riding on its flank, he felt more like 
Jim Lingard of the 31st than at any time since he had 
joined the Legion. 

The men were in high spirits at the prospect of active 
service, and were laughing and joking among themselves 
like schoolboys. Lieutenant de Morsec also was 
extremely pleased with himself. It was that young 
gentleman’s first independent command, and he had 
visions of glory and promotion, and of a triumphal 
return to Paris. His captain’s orders not to fight 
troubled him not in the least. The Senussi, or Arabs 
who chose to call themselves Senussi, were at El Rasa, 
where they had no business to be. Very good, it was 
his — Lieutenant de Morsec’s — business to see that 
they did not stay there a moment longer than he 
could help. Arab nature being what it was, he was 
quite convinced that if the Senussi saw his party that 
the attack would come from them, and thus relieve 
him of all responsibility. 

As the little column wound its way into the desert, 
Morsec reined back and spoke to Jim. 

“ Mon Dieu ,” he said, “ at last we have something 
to do ! What do you think of this razzia , adjudant, 
or do you think there is anything in it at all ? ” 

Jim shook his head. “ I don’t know, mon lieutenant ,” 
he answered. “ One can never tell in the desert. 
When every one thinks there is going to be a big flare- 
up nothing ever happens, and when everything is 
quiet suddenly something big comes along.” 

Morsec laughed. He was an amiable young man, 
and did not in the least see why he should stand 
on his dignity with his new adjutant, a man very 


THE SENUSSI SHOW THEIR TEETH 181 


little older than himself, and who had obviously 
belonged to the same social grade. 

“ Well/' he said, “ I hope there is something in it 
this time. I've had just about enough of garrison 
duty, haven't you ? I thought when I came to the 
Legion that there was going to be plenty of active 
service, but so far I " and he shrugged his shoulders. 
“ Now, perhaps we shall have a little fun. The cap- 
tain is mad to be out of it, but he daren't leave the 
station to look after itself. Luck for you, too, that we 
were short-handed at Douargala, adjudant ! " Jim was 
privately of the same opinion, but he did not say so. 
He hazarded a remark on the subject of the expedition 
instead. To his cavalryman's eye the whole line of 
march seemed to be wrongly arranged. Morsec had 
sent out an advance-guard, but no flankers or rear- 
guard, and the advance-guard itself was riding at ease 
with rifles slung. Jim pointed this out, and Morsec 
shrugged his shoulders cheerfully. 

“ Oh, if you think it necessary," he said, “ have them 
out. I don't know much about this cavalry game, but 
we aren’t anywhere near El Rasa yet ! " 

Jim pointed away to the left, where the flatness of 
the desert was broken by rolling sandhills seamed 
with gullies. 

“ One never knows with Arbis, mon lieutenant,” 
he said. “ Anyhow it is better to take no risks ; better 
send out flankers, I think 1 " Morsec assented with 
another shrug of his shoulders and gave the order, 
and two sections from the front galloped off to the 
flanks. 

It was very hot. The sun was high, and beat down 
as if the sky were made of molten iron. The desert 
stretched away in front, yellowish grey, only broken 


182 LOST SHEEP 


by the sandhills to the left front. Beyond the line 
of the column, which at a distance looked like a snake 
writhing its way over the desert, the whole landscape 
was absolutely without sign of life. The men were 
sitting loosely in their saddles with their rifles slung, 
and chatting to each other in half a dozen different 
tongues. Every now and then a man would begin 
to sing, and the others would take up the chorus. A 
man in front would start the old song of La Femme du 
Caporal. 

“ Si le caporal savait 9a 
II dirait nom de Dieu 1 ” 

And then the rest of the men would join in 

“ II dirait nom de Dieu 
Sacr6 Dieu ! 

Sacre bon nom de Dieu 
S’il savait 9a ! ” 

Once Jim thought he saw a flutter of white drapery 
among the sandhills to the left, but on looking closer 
could see nothing and concluded that his eyes were 
dazzled by the glare from the sand. He found 
Morsec an entertaining companion. Since his arrival 
in the Legion, the lieutenant had found very few of 
his brother officers who had lived the same life as he 
had, and to whom he could talk at all freely ; but after 
a little conversation with his new adjutant he had 
discovered that the latter had a considerable know- 
ledge of life, and Morsec found this a godsend. For 
months he had been living with men who had few 
interests in life, and fewer topics of conversation out- 
side their profession, and it was like a breath of Paris 
to him to find some one who had seen life as he 
understood it. Without showing any offensive curi- 


THE SENUSSI SHOW THEIR TEETH 183 


osity he had found out that Jim had held a commission 
in an English regiment, and from that moment 
Morsec dropped his rank, and spoke to his adjutant as 
an equal. Both men were perfectly aware that this 
attitude was only temporary, and that as soon as 
the expedition was over they would revert to their 
usual position, but in the meanwhile they were two 
young men with very similar tastes, in each other's 
company on an expedition which promised at least a 
chance of excitement. 

Morsec was perfectly frank about himself. He gave 
Jim to understand that he was only in the Legion 
until the dust of his escapade had blown over, and 
that then he would apply for a transfer to a French 
regiment. In the meantime his main idea in life was 
to get as much sensation as possible out of it, and in 
the course of an hour’s conversation he sketched at 
least three schemes of bringing his detachment into 
action before their return to Ain Sefra. Both he and 
Jim had been long enough in the Legion to have the 
Legion's recklessness and contempt for any conceivable 
enemy developed to the full, and the lieutenant found 
a sympathetic listener in his subordinate. 

He had just sketched a scheme for rushing the oasis 
of El Rasa by night, killing or capturing its tenants, 
then marching on the Senussi stronghold, acting on 
information received from prisoners, and returning 
to Ain Sefra to receive the envious congratulations 
of his commanding officer, and thereafter high 
rank. 

He had arrived at the stage when he had received 
command of the Legion, with Jim — also honoured by a 
grateful country — as his second in command, and was 
in the midst of an impassioned burst of eloquence, 


184 


LOST SHEEP 


when suddenly he stopped, shading his eyes with his 
hand. 

“ What’s that,” he said, “ \there to the left front. 
The flankers have seen something. Look ! They’re 
coming back as hard as they can lay legs to the ground. 
Dieu de Dieu ! Look there 1 ” 

Jim looked. The flankers were spurring back, 
crouched forward on the necks of their mounts, and 
behind them came a confused mass of men and camels, 
heading straight for the column. 

Then Lieutenant de Morsec showed that, if he could 
talk, he could also act promptly in an emergency. 

“ Sections about 1 gallop ! ” he shouted. 4 4 Form 
on the sandhills to rear, and dismount ! ” The men 
swung their mules round and rode for their lives. It 
was the only thing to do. Some little distance in the 
rear was a line of low sandhills which might conceiv- 
ably be held by dismounted men against cavalry. 

Where the column was, there was nothing but open 
desert without a scrap of cover of any description, 
whether for man or mule. The men of the column 
were armed only with rifle and bayonet ; and a Lebel 
rifle, with a twelve-inch bayonet, while an excellent arm 
for an infantry man, is next door to useless when the 
man is mounted. Under the circumstances there was 
only one thing to do — to get back to the cover of the 
sandhills, and to hold the attacking force as long 
as possible by long range fire. Morsec’s command 
was outnumbered by four or five to one, and any 
attempt to meet the Arabs on open ground meant 
annihilation for it. 

Morsec turned his mount and then reined to let the 
galloping flankers pass him. 

Then he turned to Jim. 


THE SENUSSI SHOW THEIR TEETH 185 


“ Race yon to the sandhills, Lingard,” he said with 
a laugh, and galloped after the company, Jim riding 
neck and neck with him. 

The Arabs were very close — within a couple of hun- 
dred yards — but the company were gaining on them. 
A camel will outrace a horse or mule three times over 
on a long journey, but in a short burst he does not 
show at his best. Still, Jim saw that it would be 
a very close thing. If the company could reach the 
sandhills and dismount in time, they would probably 
be able to hold the Arabs off; if not, they would be 
ridden over and wiped out. The Arabs were firing 
from the saddle without much effect as yet, but bullets 
were whining overhead, and kicking up the sand around, 
sometimes a great deal closer than was pleasant, and 
now and again the war-cry of the desert, “ U-U-llah 
Akbar ! ” would rise from the ranks behind. 

Morsec was riding close to Jim on the right, and 
seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. The main 
body of the company was a hundred yards ahead, 
by this time close to the sandhills, and tailed out in 
their rear, while in front of Morsec and Jim were the 
men of the flanking party. One of these was riding 
very slowly. He was a huge Swede named Erichsen, 
a man well known and liked in the company for his 
general inoffensiveness. Erichsen was over six feet 
three in height, and built in proportion, so that his 
mule could not keep up to the others with his weight 
on its back. 

Then the catastrophe came. A bullet fired at random 
from behind struck Morsec’s mule, which came down 
with a crash, flinging its rider clear. Morsec was on 
his feet again like a cat, but staggered, and subsided 
on the sand with a groan. 


186 LOST SHEEP 


He turned with his face wried with pain to Jim, who 
had pulled up beside him. “ Knee gone,” he said 
between hisjteeth. “ Get on and take command of 
the company and ” 

But Jim was already off his mule, as was Erichsen, 
who had also pulled back. Erichsen lifted the lieutenant 
in his arms, and was carrying him towards his mule, 
when Jim’s animal chose this extremely inopportune 
moment to continue an argument he had had with 
Erichsen’s on the subject of a feed the night before. 
He edged quietly round until he was within distance, 
and then let fly two resounding kicks into the other’s 
ribs. Erichsen’s mule, surprised and hurt, retaliated 
in kind, and the two animals, kicking and squealing, 
followed their comrades over the desert, leaving their 
masters to the mercies of the oncoming Arabs. 

Erichsen unslung his rifle, and snapped the bayonet 
on to the barrel, “ Macache,” he said, and stooping, 
rubbed his sweating palms in the sand so as to get a 
better grip. Then he settled his feet comfortably in 
the regulation position, and crouched behind his guard, 
ready for a lunge. 

Jim drew his sword and revolver and placed himself 
astride Morsec, with his back against Erichsen’s. 
As he did so a desire crossed his mind for the good 
lumbering feel of a heavy Webley, instead of the light 
French revolver, but there was no time left to review 
the comparative merits of firearms. Hardly had he 
got into position before the front ranks of the Arabs 
was on top of the three men. Jim parried a savage 
slash from a flissa, and returned it. He felt his steel 
bite on bone, and one of the raiders passed on with 
his sword-hand dangling from the wrist. Then the 
world to Jim Lingard resolved itself into yellow camels, 


THE SENUSSI SHOW THEIR TEETH 187 


and white-clad figures seen under the blade of a sword 
or over the sight of a revolver, a world that seemed 
to be fringed with flying steel, which somehow seemed 
to dart round or over him, grazing him by the fraction 
of an inch, but never touching him. 

Once there came a pause, as the men round him 
opened out for a minute, and he had a curious, dream- 
like vision of Erichsen with his yellow beard bristling, 
and his blue eyes blazing, swinging his rifle round his 
head by the barrel and then going down with a spear in 
his throat, and of Morsec lying on the ground and 
firing steadily over the crook of his arm with his 
revolver, but the Arabs round him closed in again, 
and once more his horizon was bounded by winnowing 
steel. Parry — thrust — parry — cut — thrust, until his 
arm ached, and his eyes were blinded with trickling 
sweat which he had not time to wipe away ; and all 
the time a ridiculous verse of poetry, learnt years ago 
from his Irish nurse, ran in his brain, and formed a 
kind of rhythmic accompaniment to every lunge and 
cut : 

“ Chip, chip, a little horse, 

Chip, chip again, sir ; 

How many miles to Dublin ? 

Three-score and ten, sir.” 

Then something struck him on the back of the head ; 
desert, camels, and men, all ran together in a flash of 
blinding light, and then went out in sudden darkness, 
Jim felt a hot bitter-sweetness in his throat, and 
then — nothing. 


CHAPTER XVII 


IN THE HANDS OF THE SENUSSI 

J ERK — pad — jerk — pad — jerk — pad. 

The irregular yet ordered motion was the first 
thing that Jim Lingard was conscious of. The 
second was that his head felt as if it were opening and 
shutting from the nape of the neck to the top of the 
skull, and the third was that he felt violently sick in 
the stomach. Then some one close to him said in 
French, “ Are you feeling better ? ” Jim tried to 
answer, but could not. The pain in his head seemed 
to spread through his whole body with every jerk, and 
then a black curtain seemed to descend on him and for 
a while he felt nothing further. 

After what seemed millions of years he became con- 
scious of the jerk — pad — jerk — pad again, and also 
of the pain in his head, but this time he had more 
command over his bodily powers, and with a great 
effort opened his eyes, only to close them again with a 
groan after a moment. 

In that moment, however, he had gathered a very 
fair idea of his surroundings. He was on the back of 
a camel — lashed there, as he could feel now — and all 
around him were other camels with white-clad figures 
on them. On his right was another camel, and seated 
on it was Lieutenant de Morsec, looking considerably 
dishevelled, but otherwise normal. Jim could see 
188 


IN THE HANDS OF THE SENUSSI 189 


no sign of Erichsen. Morsec bent over and spoke, 
“fa va mieux?” he said. “ L I thought they had 
done for you." 

Jim moved his tongue, and at last managed to 
speak. 

“ What happened ? " he asked feebly. 

“ What happened ? ” returned Morsec, “ they rode 
over us. Erichsen got three of them before they put 
a spear into him, and then somebody hit you on the 
head with the butt of a gun, after you had accounted 
for a couple. I’m not hurt, thanks to you, mon ami ; 
at least only my knee where my brute put me down. I 
thought you were done for. The blow that fetched you 
down would have stunned an ox." 

“ And the company ? " Jim asked. 

“The company’s all right," returned Morsec, “^at 
least I think so. They got to the sandhills all 
right, and ces messieurs tried a frontal attack, and I 
think they wish they hadn’t now ! See ’’ — and he 
pointed to a score of camels with empty saddles — 
“ that’s what they got out of it. Anyhow, they’re in full 
retreat, taking us with them, as you see. They were 
just going to put a spear through you and me after you 
had gone down — it wasn’t necessary with Erichsen, 
poor fellow, he had had his affair already — and then 
some one who seemed to be in command stopped them, 
I don’t know exactly why. Anyhow, they just bundled 
us into a couple of empty saddles and took us with 
them." 

“ Do you know where to ? " inquired Jim. 

“Not I," returned Morsec. “All I know is that 
we are going South. But I do know one thing. This 
lot are the Senussi who were at El Rasa. They must 
have got information about us coming; and, instead 


igo LOST SHEEP 


of waiting for us to came to them, came out to meet us — 
voild. tout ! ” 

He broke off suddenly as an Arab beside him struck 
him sharply in the ribs with the butt of a rifle, at the 
same time giving an order in Arabic, which Morsec 
rightly interpreted to mean silence. 

Jim had hardly taken in all that his companion had 
said, but his brain was working by this time, if but 
slowly. If they were prisoners in the hands of Arabs, 
whether Senussi or not, the prospect was not exactly 
cheering to contemplate. The Arab is a slave dealer, 
both by heredity and choice and, given the opportunity, 
a European is as marketable a commodity to him as a 
negro. If they were being taken South, it probably 
meant that the rest of their lives would be passed in 
slavery in Morocco or Kordofan, and as absolutely 
out of reach of any chance of rescue as if they were in 
the moon. Theorists who form their ideas of the 
stubborn pride of the European — and especially from 
that of the particular branch of the European race to 
which they happen to belong — may laugh to scorn the 
idea of any white man ever stooping to become the 
chattel of an Arab or negro, and may state with much 
wealth of detail what they themselves would do in such 
circumstances, but the fact remains that the whip and 
hot iron have a wonderfully calming effect on even the 
proudest soul ; and, given the free use of these instru- 
ments of persuasion by a man who only sees in them the 
normal means of reducing a refractory slave to his 
senses, the heir of all the ages fits into his place as a 
slave as quickly as does a cannibal from a West Coast 
village. 

At present, however, their captors did not seem 
inclined to adopt any disciplinary methods. Beyond 


IN THE HANDS OF THE SENUSSI 191 


a thump from a rifle butt, or spear shaft, whenever they 
tried to converse, and which seemed to be administered 
more as a matter of form than anything else, they were 
not ill-treated. 

Twice an Arab, in obedience to one of his leaders, 
handed a waterskin to Jim, and each time he drank 
freely, and felt the better for it. His head was still 
aching badly, and his hair and tunic collar were 
covered with dried blood, but his brain was working 
clearly now, and he did not seem to have taken any 
very serious hurt. So far as he could see, any attempt 
at escape was absolutely useless. They were riding 
in the centre of the Arabs, and on each side of them 
rode a man with an extremely business-like spear, the 
point of which was always kept in close proximity to 
the prisoners. 

Jim had a good look at his captors. Many of them, 
by the long black veils which covered their faces from 
the eyes down, were Touaregs — professional brigands 
of the desert — but the others seemed to be made up 
of many races. There were several full-blooded 
negroes, and many others who to Jim's eyes seemed to 
be almost white — Kabyles from the Atlas. Besides 
these there were others, men with fair or red beards 
and blue eyes — Berbers from the North. 

The march of the party was that of disciplined 

men very different from that of the disorderly mob 

which constitutes the usual Moorish or Arab harka. 
The troop marched in sections of fours, keeping 
excellent dressing, and with flankers and ground 
scouts thrown out on each side and ahead. 

As far as Jim could see, they all wore a sort of rough 
uniform consisting of a green djellab, or blouse, 
covered by a long white cloak, and every man, in 


192 


LOST SHEEP 


addition to sword and lance, was armed with a rifle 
of European pattern. What struck Jim most was that 
all the rifles seemed to be of the same pattern. In an 
Arab raiding party the members as a rule are armed 
according to their own fancy or means, one man carry- 
ing a six-foot matchlock, another a Remington and 
yet another a Martini. Under this system a man's 
ammunition is useless to anyone except himself, and 
when it is finished he is of no further account as a 
member of the firing line. When men become armed 
with rifles of identical pattern, a man whose am- 
munition is finished can replenish his store from that 
of a killed or wounded comrade ; but owing to the 
rigid system of patrols to prevent gun-running into 
Northern Africa, maintained by several European 
Powers, it is more than rare to find any large body of 
natives armed alike. Jim knew this, and wondered 
vaguely where the last great gun-running coup had 
been brought off, and where the money to pay for it 
had come from, for as far as he could see, the rifles 
were modern ones, and in excellent condition. 

It was getting late in the afternoon now, and 
Jim was wondering if the party were going to 
continue their journey during the night, when Morsec 
spoke. 

“ El Rasa," he said, and nodded his head forward to 
indicate a point ahead. 

Jim looked and saw a few palm-trees, the only green 
things within sight in the yellow expanse of sand. 

“ Where we are going ? ” he queried. 

Morsec nodded again. 

“Yes," he replied, “ where we ought to have been 
by this time, if it had not been for this cursed ambush. 

I wonder how many more of them there are there. 


IN THE HANDS OF THE SENUSSI 193 


And I’d give something to know who has been drilling 
them. They march as well or better than our native 
troops, and whoever is in command knows his business 
too 1 See the way he’s got his scouts and flankers 
out ; he doesn’t leave much to chance ! ” 

“ I expect the Government would give something to 
know that too,” returned Jim, “ who has been drilling 
this lot, I mean, and where they got their rifles from. 
If they’ve got more of them and start raiding North, 
they are going to give the posts on the edge of the 
desert a bit of trouble, I fancy 1 ” 

Morsec laughed rather savagely. 

“ Oh,” he said, “ it is easy enough to say where 
they got their guns. Without any offence to you, mon 
ami , from England, or through English sources I 
Nine out of ten of the rifles that get into the hands of 
the Arabs come that way ! ” 

Morsec said no more than the simple truth, and 
Jim knew it. 

“ True bill, I’m afraid,” he said. “ The English 
business man is a strange creature and his ideas are 
strange too. To sell gas-pipe guns to natives — that's 
business. They can’t do much harm with them to 
anyone except themselves, and your business man 
salves his conscience that way. Then your native 
finds out that there are other sorts of guns, and doesn’t 
want gas-pipes any more. Very well. The British 
merchant just sees supply and demand, and provides 
modern rifles. He calls it ‘ business,’ and business 
must be moral, as long as it brings a profit. If it 
doesn’t, then it’s immoral. He doesn’t care a damn 
whom the rifles are going to be used against ; that’s not 
his affair, and to do him justice, he provides just as 
obsolete guns as he can induce his customers to take, 

N 


194 LOST SHEEP 


but that’s only because he makes more profit on 
them ! ” 

He broke off as the troop, in obedience to an order 
from their leader, broke into a trot. The walking pace 
of a camel is not conducive to conversation, but its 
trot renders it impossible, and for some time Jim had 
quite enough to do to keep in the swaying, jolting 
saddle. 

After half an hour or so the party arrived at the 
oasis, and Jim could see that it was full of men, all 
well armed, and dressed in the same way as his 
captors. 

The troop entered the oasis, the camels knelt and 
their riders dismounted. Then Morsec and Jim were 
hustled forward into the presence of a man who was 
seated under a palm-tree. 

He addressed a few sentences to them which neither 
of them understood, the Arabic used being some dialect 
that they had never heard. At last he gave an order 
to a man beside him, who went away, and in a few 
minutes returned with another. The latter listened 
respectfully to the chief, and then turned to the two 
prisoners. 

“ The Emir wants to know/’ he said, in very fair 
French, “ what rank you hold ? ” 

Morsec gave the required information, which the 
interpreter conveyed to the chief, and after a brief 
conversation with him, turned again to the prisoners. 

“ The Emir says,” he remarked, “ that you are 
Infidels, and enemies of our lord, El Senussi, and that 
therefore you deserve death. But he says also that 
perhaps your Government will pay ransom for you, 
or you may be useful to El Senussi, and so he is going 
to take you with us. He bids me say that, if either 


IN THE HANDS OF THE SENUSSI 195 


of you give any trouble or try to escape, he will turn 
both of you into meat for jackals ? ” 

The Emir made a sign and the prisoners were led 
away. They were placed under a tree in the centre 
of the camp, the lashings which bound their hands were 
loosened, and some food and water were given to them, 
after which they were supplied with a cloak apiece, 
and left alone except for the presence of an armed 
guard. 

There was nothing to be done except make the best 
of the situation, and this both men proceeded to do. 
Escape was utterly impossible. Even if they had 
not been guarded, Morsec’s wrenched knee prevented 
him from doing more than limping about, and that 
with difficulty, and Jim still had violent nausea from 
the blow on his head. 

The Arab guard wrapped himself in his burnouse, 
placed his back against a palm-tree, and settled himself 
down to watch the prisoners. 

From the rest of the camp the sound of voices was 
rising, and fires began to be lit for the preparation of 
the evening meal. 

Morsec finished his food, took a draught of water, 
and turned to his companion. 

“ That’s better,” he said. “ I feel more like myself 
now. Question is, what’s going to become of us, and 
where this lot are going to take us ? ” 

“ Godknows,” returned Jim. “ They may be going 
to do anything with us. Anyhow, they haven’t hurt 
us yet, and they don't seem inclined to. The only 
thing is to hang on and see what happens.’” 

Morsec agreed. 

“ That’s all there is to do,” he said. “ We can’t get 
away, and there’s no use trying. Besides I don’t 


196 LOST SHEEP 


want to be turned into jackal’s meat. I object. Well, 
we may as well try to get a sleep now ; and, if a chance 
comes later of getting away, take it. You never know 
what’s going to turn up.” 

He rolled himself in the cloak which had been given 
to him, and stretching himself out was asleep in five 
minutes. 

Jim tried to follow his example, but could not. 
His head was still aching and he felt sick, and seemed to 
have no control over his thoughts. Every time he 
closed his eyes, vivid pictures of his past life from his 
childhood on would rise before him, only to vanish 
as quickly as they came, and to be succeeded by 
others. 

At last he gave up the attempt to sleep, and, placing 
his back against a palm-tree, reviewed his position. 
On the face of it, it appeared rather hopeless. They 
were prisoners in the hands of Arabs who were followers 
of a new Mahdi or prophet — one of those who make 
periodical appearances in the East, and whose success 
is measured by the fanaticism with which he can inspire 
his followers. The Senussi sect had the reputation of 
possessing this quality of fanaticism in a high degree, 
so much so that they looked on orthodox Moslems as 
heretics and traitors to the faith of the Prophet — in 
much the same light, in fact, as Cromwell’s Ironsides 
regarded members of the Established Church. Under 
these circumstances, neither the men by whom he was 
surrounded nor the Senussi leader himself was likely 
to have much consideration for a mere Nazrani . 1 

The only redeeming feature about the whole situa- 
tion was that, beyond a few perfunctory thumps, 
neither of them had been ill-used so far, nor had their 
1 Christian, 


IN THE HANDS OF THE SENUSSI 197 


personal belongings, with the exception of their 
weapons, been taken from them. In Jim’s case this 
would have presented some difficulty, as, beyond the 
clothes he wore and a few small coins, he had nothing 
worth taking, but Morsec had a ring and gold watch 
on him which his captors must have noticed, and which 
had not been touched. 

However, Jim was soon to learn the reason of this 
departure from all desert etiquette, and incidentally 
the methods used by the Senussi to maintain disci- 
pline. 

As he sat brooding with his back to the tree, he 
became aware of a white-clad figure approaching from 
the camp. As it came closer he could see that it was 
that of a huge and very evil-looking negro. He walked 
up to the prisoners, and, after having regarded them for 
a moment in silence, spat on the ground. Then 
going over to Morsec, he shook him roughly, and 
holding a knife before his eyes, to emphasise what 
would happen if he resisted, proceeded to despoil him 
of his rings and watch. 

The guard rose to his feet and protested angrily, 
but the negro turned on him with a snarl, and then 
proceeded to march back to the camp with his booty. 
The man on guard, however, seized him, and the two 
struggled for a moment. Then there was a flash of 
steel in the negro’s hand, and the guard went down with 
the blood pouring from a nasty stab in his shoulder. 
But the camp had been alarmed by the struggle, and the 
whole oasis was full of figures running towards the 
scene of it. In obedience to the command of a man 
who seemed to be a sort of sous-officier, the negro was 
seized, bound and disarmed, and thrown down beside 
the other two prisoners, where he spent the rest of the 


198 LOST SHEEP 


night alternately straining at his bonds and calling 
down curses on those who had bound him. Then the 
wounded guard was carried away, a new one posted, 
and shortly after the camp was silent except for the 
regular footfalls of the sentries on its outskirts. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


DESERT JUSTICE 

A T dawn the next morning the encampment woke 
again to life. Camels bubbled and squealed 
over their feed, smoke began to rise from camp 
fires, and men began to move about. 

Both Jim and Morsec were very much the better 
for their night's rest, and were inclined to view their 
situation in a much more rosy light than they did 
the night before. They were given a further supply 
of food and water, and informed by the interpreter 
that the party would set off in an hour. No destina- 
tion was named, and when Morsec asked where they 
were going no answer was vouchsafed. 

Before the journey commenced, however, they were 
to have their first insight into the methods of the 
Senussi. The negro who had tried to steal Morsec's 
watch was still bound hand and foot, and was lying 
glaring about him like a trapped animal. The camels 
were being saddled when two Arabs approached the 
prisoners, and loosening the cords which bound the 
negro's feet, jerked him upright and marched him off 
to where a group of white-clad figures stood under a 
palm-tree. The negro was forced down on his knees, 
and a few sentences passed between him and one of the 
group, in which the other two prisoners recognised 
the Emir. The conversation was very short. The 
199 


200 LOST SHEEP 


Emir uttered a few words and made a sign, with the 
result of causing the other to cast himself with a yell 
at his leader’s feet, and attempt to embrace them. 
Then two men seized him, and he was carried back with 
his eyes rolling, and his black face a dirty grey, to where 
Morsec and Jim lay. 

Then half a dozen Arabs, after selecting a young 
palm-tree on the very edge of the desert, proceeded 
to chop it down to a height of about five feet. The two 
white men watched them with interest, but the other 
prisoner hid his face, and kept up a continuous moaning. 

When the tree had been cut down it was trimmed to a 
sharp point, and then the Arabs went away to saddle 
their camels, leaving their handiwork looking like the 
sharp snag of a broken tooth. 

By this time the party was ready to start, and two 
Arabs approached Jim and Morsec, ordering them 
by signs to come with them, and then pointing out two 
camels, which, again in obedience to signs, the prisoners 
mounted. 

As they did so, they heard terrific yells and the sound 
of a struggle behind them. Turning round, they saw 
that the would-be thief of the night before had been 
seized by four men who had torn his garments off him, 
leaving his great black body bare, and were dragging 
him, in spite of his struggles, towards the lopped tree. 
Arrived there the prisoner was thrown to the ground, 
and trussed hand and foot in the position known to 
boys as that of cock-fighting. Then his four execu- 
tioners lifted him, struggling and screaming, and im- 
paled him on the sharpened trunk of the palm-tree. 

The screams of the tortured man were appalling, 
and seemed to annoy the Emir, for, as the executioners 
joined their comrades, he turned and gave a sharp order 


DESERT JUSTICE 


201 


to one of them. The man went back to the writhing 
figure on the tree trunk, bent over it for a moment, 
and the screams ceased, to be replaced by a thick, 
slobbering groaning, which, if it did not carry so far, 
was almost worse to hear. The Emir had stopped the 
noise by the simple expedient of having the offender’s 
tongue cut out. 

The Arab who had carried out his chief’s order 
mounted his camel, and wiped his streaming knife on 
its neck, before replacing it in its sheath. The party 
started, but as they did so the Emir said a few words 
to the interpreter, and the latter approached the two 
prisoners. 

“ The Emir says,” he announced, “ that this is what 
happens to men who disobey orders. The orders 
given were that nothing of yours was to be touched, 
since both you and they belong to our lord, El Senussi, 
who will dispose of them as he sees fit. Nevertheless, 
take warning, and do not give any trouble, or attempt 
to escape. If you do, the Emir has our lord’s authority 
to act as he sees fit, and as that man is, so will you be ! ” 

He held out Morsec’s watch which the negro had 
taken from him, and reined his camel back. 

The last sight which Jim Lingard had of the oasis 
of El Rasa, was the green palms set in the yellow-grey 
desert, and that tortured black figure on their edge. 

High overhead a speck wheeled in great descending 
spirals towards the oasis, and from all quarters other 
specks came to join it. The vultures had marked down 
their morning meal. 

Morsec turned to his companion. His face was 
very pale, and he was shaking. 

“ What brutes,” he said, “ Mon Dieu, what a death I 
Look,” and he pointed towards the descending vul- 


202 LOST SHEEP 


tures, “ they will get at him long before the breath 

is out of his body. Aurggh ” and he spat as if to 

get an evil taste out of his mouth. 

Jim also felt rather sick and more than a little un- 
comfortable. If the Senussi were capable of treating 
their own men in this way, they were not likely to be 
delicate-handed with Nazranis, and avowed enemies at 
that. The Emir seemed to have large powers. There 
had been no form of trial for the delinquent, simply 
those few curt words, followed by that monstrous 
punishment. He felt rather grateful to the unknown 
chief of the Senussi for the orders which he seemed to 
have given respecting prisoners, but on second thoughts 
decided to reserve his gratitude until he found out what 
the future would bring forth. It was quite as likely as 
not that they were being reserved for a fate quite as bad 
as that of the negro, or else for the unspeakable horrors 
of African slavery. As for the French Government 
paying ransom for a lieutenant and an adjutant — the 
latter not even confirmed in his rank — he dismissed the 
bare possibility of such a thing from his mind. If any 
demand for ransom were sent in, it would be refused, 
and a message sent back threatening all and sundry 
with dire pains and penalties if they laid a finger on the 
sacred person of a French soldier ; and then both he and 
his companion would probably be killed painfully, as a 
visible sign of the Senussi’ s independence. No — it 
was no good trusting to the Government. The only 
help they could expect was from themselves, and for 
the present there was nothing to be done. 

He turned to Morsec. 

“How are you feeling now, mon luutenant?” he 
asked. “ Is the knee still bad ? ” 

Morsec made a grimace. 


DESERT JUSTICE 


203 


“ Bad enough/’ he answered. “ I couldn’t walk a 
mile to save my life. Good job they have these spare 
camels. I say, a nice set of beauties we seem to have 
got amongst. That poor devil of a nigger 1 ” and he 
shuddered. 

“ It’s a warning to us not to try any games,” Jim 
answered. “If we try to escape and they get us, it 
will be the same thing for us. I believe they would like 
to do it anyhow, only they’ve got orders from some- 
body, whom they don’t dare to disobey 1 ” 

“Yes,” returned Morsec,” “very probably. And 
it must be some one that they’re very much afraid of, 
too. It’s not in Arbi nature to spare Roumi prisoners 
after a handling like these chaps got from the company. 
I wish to God I knew if they managed to get back all 
right, and what’s happening at Douargala ! I’m 
afraid we’ve got too long a start for any pursuit, and 
even if our people did pursue and catch us up this lot 
would probably cut our throats first thing. Hallo ! 
here’s the interpreter 1 ” 

The man in question had ridden up alongside the 
prisoners while Morsec was speaking, and had evidently 
overheard the last sentence. “ Exactly so,” he remarked 
in his careful, grammatical French, “ that would be 
the very first thing which the Emir would order to 
be done 1 ” 

Morsec turned on him with a gay laugh. “ At 
least you are frank, my friend,” he remarked. 

The other pushed his camel closer. 

“ I only say the truth,” he returned, “so that you may 
take warning. F or myself I wish you no ill. I have had 
nothing but kindness from the Franswazi 1 and would 
be sorry to see you die — as I have seen others die.” 

1 French. 


204 LOST SHEEP 


“ Merely mon ami, for your good wishes/' replied 
Morsec; “ we will bear your warning in mind — until 
we get a good chance of escape," he added mentally. 
“ But you speak very good French. Where did you 
learn it ? " 

The interpreter smiled ; the eternal, child-like vanity 
of the Oriental was evidently flattered. 

“ I was a student at the university of Cairo," he 
answered, “ and then I was in Government service at 
Oran. But I had misfortunes, and lost my position, 

and so " and he made a gesture with his hands 

to explain the greatness of his fall. 

“ And do you like your present job ? ” queried 
Morsec with interest. 

The other made a grimace. “Not much," he 
answered. “ These Arabs are most uneducated people. 
But I cannot get away. You saw what happened to 
Mirzah for disobeying orders. That is not the tenth 
part of what our lord, El Senussi, would give one of 
his men who tried to desert ! And besides, his arm is 
very long. In the desert or in the town one is never 
safe from him ! " 

Jim and Morsec regarded each other. At all events, 
the Senussi seemed to have the gift of inspiring 
a very salutary respect in his followers — a respect 
which could hardly be wondered at, judging by the 
sample they had seen of his methods. 

“ And El Senussi," Jim asked, “ where is he now ? " 

The Arab pointed south-east. 

“ La-bas,” he answered, “ you will see him soon 
enough," and, evidently thinking that he had been in 
conversation with the prisoners long enough, he drew 
his camel back. 

By this time the sun was high in the sky, and the 


DESERT JUSTICE 


205 


heat was becoming unbearable to the two white men. 
The Arabs, used to it from birth, however, scarcely 
seemed to feel it, and the march continued. 

There was not a sign of life of any sort in the land- 
scape. Behind, ahead, and on each side stretched 
the desert, and overhead was an absolutely cloudless 
sky. It was too hot to talk, almost too hot to think 
coherently, and after a while the two prisoners pulled 
up the hoods of the cloaks which had been given them 
the night before over their eyes, to shut out the glare 
from the sand, and rode wrapped in a stifling darkness. 

Jim considered. From what he could make out 
of what the interpreter had said, and also from his 
own observation, they were heading due south-east, 
which, as far as he or any other white man knew, 
led directly into the terrible Tanezrafet , or utterly 
waterless desert portion of the Sahara. Beyond that, 
the only thing known of the country was that it con- 
sisted of more desert, and beyond that again lay the 
Ahagger Tasili, the range of unexplored rocky moun- 
tains which covers the No-man's-land between Southern 
Tripoli and Algeria. 

What he could not make out was where his captors 
had come from. Judging from their arms and equip- 
ment they had a well-supplied base somewhere, and by 
the freshness of their camels it could not be so very far 
away. Unless there was some hitherto undiscovered 
oasis in the Tanezrafet , he could not for the life of him 
understand it. Then he remembered the Ahagger. 
That gloomy wilderness of rocks and stones had never 
been properly explored, and might hide anything in 
its recesses. 

He threw back the hood from his head. Better be 
blinded by the glare from the sand, he thought, than 


20(5 


LOST SHEEP 


slowly stifled in a sweaty haik. For a moment or two, 
dazzled by the sudden burst of light, he could see 
nothing, and then a little distance ahead he saw the 
green of palm-trees. They were evidently approaching 
another oasis. 

Jim bent forward, and touched Morsec’ s arm. 

“ I think we halt here,” he said. 

Morsec threw back the hood from his face, and gave 
a great sigh of relief. 

“ Thank le bon Dieu ,” he remarked piously. “ If 
I had been another quarter of an hour under that ac- 
cursed cloak I should have been sick. I don’t know 
what yours smells like, but mine is a mixture of camel 
and rancid nigger, and the two together — phew ! 
And they talk about the perfumes of Araby I ” 

Jim grinned. “ Mine’s just about the same,” he 
confessed. “You see, water being scarce, Arabs 
don’t wash much, and the sun being hot they perspire 
considerably, and it is not likely that they would make a 
present of two new haik s to a pair of Roumi prisoners. 
How long do you think we shall be on this journey ? ” 

“ Don't know,” returned Morsec tranquilly. “ De- 
pends on where they’re going to take us. I don’t 
know much about this part of the desert except by 
repute. It’s a bit out of the Legion’s beat. What 
direction are we going ? ” 

Jim told him, and he whistled thoughtfully. 

“ That means the Ahagger,” he said. “ I wonder 
was there anything in what Laplote told me?” 

Jim looked at him interrogatively, and he continued : 

“ Oh, Laplote told me one night when he was sober, 
I mean Lieutenant Laplote told me ” — he corrected 
himself as he remembered the other’s rank — “ that 
there was a story about a great castle somewhere in 


DESERT JUSTICE 


the Ahagger, built ages ago by no one knows who. The 
Arabs say it was built by djinns and devils. Anyhow, 
there are all sorts of stories about this place. They 
say that sometimes it is invisible, and that it is never 
twice in the same place ; but of course that’s all Arab 
lies. But if there should happen to be a place like that 
in the Ahagger, it would make a very nice convenient 
base for raiding parties, like this one, for instance. 
And it would be the devil of a job to turn anyone out 
of it who wanted to stay there at all badly. Well, we 
shall see what we shall see. We are going to halt, I 
think, and I can do with a drink, can’t youj? ” 

As he spoke, the order to dismount was given, and 
a few minutes afterwards both captors and captives 
were washing the desert sand out of their throats, 
with draughts of cool water from a well in the little 
oasis. 


CHAPTER XIX 


PRISONERS 

A LL the rest of the day they remained in the 
oasis. The Senussi seemed to be satisfied that 
they were in no danger of pursuit, and therefore, 
following the wisdom of the desert, which has 
been tried and proved for thousands of years, rested 
themselves and their camels before continuing their 
journey. 

As before, neither of the prisoners was molested in 
any way. They were given a handful of wet dates 
apiece, and as much water as they could drink, and 
left to their own reflections. Whether the Senussi 
Emir thought that the spectacle which they had seen 
at the last halt had had a salutary effect on his prisoners, 
or, as was more probable, recognised that they had 
realised the absolute hopelessness of any attempt to 
escape, at any rate they were not bound, and beyond 
being constantly followed by an armed guard were 
left very much to their own devices, and even allowed 
to wander about the camp, so long as they did not try 
to approach the tethered camels. Any attempt at 
doing so was met by a levelled rifle, and a peremptory 
gesture ordering them to keep their distance. 

The Emir of the Senussi did not mix with his men. 
He sat apart under a palm-tree, where his meals were 
brought to him, and appeared, once his men had settled 
down, to take little interest in them. The men them- 
208 


PRISONERS 


209 


selves seemed to be well disciplined. Both the pris- 
oners remarked that they were told off into troops 
exactly as if they were a regular regiment, and that 
the sous-officiers looked after their sections and 
performed their duties as if they were well practised 
in them. Although there seemed to be no fear of attack, 
sentries were thrown out and relieved at regular 
intervals, and the men without exception took their 
turns of duty. In the ordinary Arab or Moorish 
harka it is generally the least considered member of 
the party on whom the brunt of the work falls. 

Jim took careful note of all these details. In the 
unlikely event of his ever getting back to his regiment, 
he knew that they would be of interest to the authori- 
ties. A well armed, and, above all, a disciplined hostile 
force on their southern border was going to add 
enormously to the difficulty of France’s task in Algeria, 
already difficult enough. Although Algeria is a French 
colony and officially plunged in profound peace, the men 
of the desert look at things in a different light, and see 
to it that the troops on the desert stations do not 
suffer from lack of work. The work of France’s frontier 
is done in silence, and the men who fall in guarding it 
go to their graves in the desert sand, knowing that 
their death will only be chronicled in an obscure 
comer of an official journal. This is where the great 
utility of the Foreign Legion lies. French soldiers 
have relatives and friends in France, and, if they die 
in battle in a country officially at peace, awkward 
questions might be asked; and, horrible to think of, 
certain Ministers’ careers might even be spoilt. The 
Legion belongs to no one except the French Government, 

I and the Government uses them with a truly royal 
! profusion, 
o 


210 


LOST SHEEP 


Still a really big defeat could not be hidden and would 
inevitably lead to questions — things that Governments 
loathe — and Jim knew that a timely warning of the 
danger would be appreciated, and possibly rewarded 
by the gods of officialdom. 

He was aroused from his thoughts by the voice of 
Morsec. That gentleman had recovered his spirits 
and by this time was quite cheerful and ready for what- 
ever adventure might chance. 

“ Dis do7ic, mon ami,” he remarked, “it is not very 
lively here. Can’t we go and see the Emir and ask 
him where he is taking us ? ” 

Jim shook his head. 

“ Better not,” he said, “ he doesn’t seem a person 
who takes kindly to questions — and there are palm- 
trees here as well as at El Rasa. I haven’t the least 
ambition to adorn one 1 ” 

But Morsec was set on his idea. 

“ He won’t hurt us,” he said. “ He would have done 
so long ago if he had wanted to. Anyhow, I’m going 
to speak to his Lord High Mightiness. You needn’t 
come if you don’t like 1 ” 

“ You can’t,” returned Jim. “ You don’t under- 
stand his Arabic; besides, as I say, you will only 
enrage him, and then God knows what will happen.” 

“ Oh,” replied the other, “ that is very easily 
arranged — about understanding each other I mean. 
There’s that interpreter man. I’m going to get him 
to come with us. Well, are you coming or are you going 
to stay here and watch me? ” 

Jim stood up. Quite apart from his feeling of 
comradeship to the other, which forbade him to allow 
Morsec to run into risk without supporting him, 
he felt that it was beneath his dignity to let a French- 


PRISONERS 


211 


man do what he himself dared not ; and, feeling as if 
he was principally composed of bowels but keeping 
a set face, he followed the other. 

Morsec looked neither to the right nor to the 
left, but walked straight up to a camp fire where the 
interpreter was seated. 

“ I want to see the Emir,” he said. 

The other looked at him. “ Impossible,” he replied, 
“ the Emir must not be disturbed, if he is ” 

But Morsec cut him short. 

“ I — tell — you — I — want — to — see — the — Emir,” he 
said, very slowly and distinctly, “ and I want you to 
come with us to interpret. If you won't come I 
shall go by myself — now, are you coming ? ” 

The Arab made a gesture of resignation. “ Without 
doubt all Roumis — on whom be the curse of Allah — are 
mad,” he said, in his own language, and then to the 
other, “ Are you tired of your life. Do you remember 
what happened at El Rasa ? ” 

Morsec laughed recklessly. “ Oh, I remember 
quite well,” he said. “As to being tired of my life, 
if I'm going to die, as well now as any other time.” 

The interpreter stood up. “You are either a very 
brave or a very foolish man,” he said, “ still on your 
own head be it ! ” 

He walked over to where the Emir was sitting apart, 
saluted, and spoke to him respectfully for a few 
minutes; then returned to the two prisoners. 

“ The Emir will see you,” he announced, and then 
under his breath as the two turned to follow him, 
“ Surely you have the Protection, you two ! I have 
seen Abd-ul-malek have a man flogged to death, because 
he disturbed him when he wished to rest. Now, guard 
your tongues if you wish to keep them in your heads.” 


212 


LOST SHEEP 


The Emir Abd-ul-malek was sitting under a tree 
alone, wrapped in his haik , and as the two prisoners 
and their guide approached him he raised his head 
and favoured them with a long, steady stare from a pair 
of cold eyes. Jim felt distinctly nervous. He did not 
mind taking risks in the ordinary course of things, 
but this idea of Morsec’s seemed to him to be utterly 
pointless, and judging by what he had seen of the 
Emir, to be more than likely to lead to disaster. 
He hoped with all his heart that Morsec would be 
able to keep his Gallic temperament under, and 
would cut the interview as short as he conveniently 
could. 

In the meanwhile the lieutenant was in his glory. 
Every Frenchman is a bom actor, and acts best when 
he has the centre of the stage to himself. For the 
moment Morsec felt himself to be the representative 
of France addressing the head of a hostile power, and 
was prepared to get the last ounce of dramatic effect 
out of the situation. 

The interpreter went forward, saluted the chief, and 
with a gesture introduced the prisoners. 

“ The Emir wishes to know what you want with 
him,” he said. 

Morsec stepped forward, and made a large and noble 
gesture. 

“Tell him,” he said, “ that I want to know where 
we are being taken to, and how long he intends to hold 
us prisoners. Also, you can tell him, that if he keeps 
us much longer, or that if a hair of our heads are hurt, 
France will send troops, and leave not one of the 

Senussi alive ! Tell him ” but the interpreter 

was already speaking to the Emir, who had never for 
one moment slackened his stony stare. 


PRISONERS 


213 


Then he spoke one word — “ Imshi Z” 1 and the in- 
terpreter seized Morsec by the arm and hustled him 
away despite his protests, Jim following, inwardly 
very much relieved at the turn which affairs had taken. 

As soon as they got out of earshot the interpreter let 
go of his charge's arm and put his face close to his. 
“ If you Roumis ever thank Allah for his benefits," he 
said, “do so to-night ! If I had told the Emir what 
you had said you would have been half way to Al- 
hotoma 2 by this time. I do not know why he spared 
you, as it is. Abd-ul-malek does not love Roumis, and 
least of all Franswazi ” 

Morsec’s dignity was considerably shaken. He 
answered nothing, but walked off to his place, with a 
haughty and dignified gait, and sat down sulkily. 
Jim remained behind with the interpreter for a moment. 

“ Where are we going ? ” he asked. 

The Arab looked round to see that no one was within 
earshot, and then said softly, “ Into the Tasili Ahag- 
ger.” 

“ Where ? ” asked Jim. 

“The Tasili Ahagger,’’ answered the other. “The 
Stones ! where our lord, El Senussi, is at present. 
Ask no more questions, you will know all you want to 
soon enough — sooner than you will care for perhaps l ” 
And then, as if fearing he had said too much, he turned 
and left Jim, who rejoined Morsec. 

Lieutenant de Morsec’s dignity was hurt. Not only 
had the word “ Imshi!” which is generally used to a 
dog been applied to him by an Arab, but his great 
scene had been spoilt by the latter’s brutal lack of 
culture, and M. de Morsec was inclined to sulk. He 
took no notice of Jim for some time, but continued to 
1 Go. 2 The Muslim hell. 


214 LOST SHEEP 


look straight in front of him with a gloomy and digni- 
fied air, until at last he could contain himself no longer. 

“ That Emir is a person of no breeding/' he burst 
out. “ I had not half finished what I was going to say 
to him" — and then as the Emir's last word recurred 
to him — 11 Imshi!” he repeated bitterly, and as he 
noticed Jim's face, “ What are you grinning at, ad - 
judant ? " he snapped. 

Jim straightened his face with an effort. “ I’m not 
grinning," he said hastily. “ Only I think it’s rather a 
good thing for both of us that you didn't finish what you 
had to say ! Voyons , mon lieutenant , there is no use in 
kicking against the pricks 1 These people have us, 
and they don't intend to let us go. Why they are keep- 
ing us prisoners instead of having killed us out of hand 
I don't know — but still here we are and there is nothing 
to be gained by annoying them for no reason." 

Morsec snorted. 

“I am French — me I " he said. 

Jim shrugged his shoulders. 

“ You will have been French, you mean," he said, 
“ that is, unless you keep quiet. Of course if you want 
to get both our throats cut " 

Morsec thought for a moment, and then turned to 
his companion. 

“ I beg your pardon, camarade ,” he said, “ you are 
right and I was quite wrong. I had no business to 
risk your life as well as my own, but I wanted to find 
out where we were being taken to." 

“ As far as I can make out," Jim replied, “ we are 
going into the Ahagger. The man who interprets told 
me so after you had gone." 

Morsec whistled softly. 

“ Oh," he said, “ perhaps there is something in what 


PRISONERS 


215 


Laplote told me after all. The interpreter didn’t give 
you any more information by any chance, did he ? ” 
Jim shook his head. 

“ No,” he said, “ and I don’t think he liked giving me 
that piece over much. He’s scared to death of that 
Emir of his, and I don’t wonder. He seems to be able 
to keep his men in order, doesn’t he ? ” 

Morsec stretched his arms and yawned. 

“ Well,” he said, “ Ahagger or not I’m going to have 
a sleep. I expect we have another long ride in front of 
us, and I’m as stiff as a piece of wood from that cursed 
camel, and I want all the rest I can get before we start 
again. You’d better do the same. Bon soir .” He 
turned on his side and composed himself to rest, and a 
few minutes afterwards Jim followed his example. 


CHAPTER XX 


INTO THE AHAGGER 

T HE next morning the camp was astir early. There 
seemed to be every prospect of an arduous 
march. The Arabs drank their fill at the one 
small well in the oasis, and the skin water-bottles 
were carefully filled. As the party was starting, the 
Arab who acted as interpreter, and whose name 
Jim had discovered to be Ahmed, came up to the 
prisoners and gave them each a long narrow strip of 
cloth. 

“ Bind this round your loins,” he said. “ To-day we 
ride hard and those who are not used to camels will 
suffer.” 

Jim and Morsec did as they were told. They both 
knew what a long ride on camels meant, and they 
had heard stories of men who had burst asunder in the 
midst like Judas during long desert rides. The camel 
is not an easy-paced beast, and the Arab saddle is not 
an easy seat. Basin-shaped and with a horn in front to 
crook the leg round, it requires a lifetime to get used to, 
and already both the white men were saddle-sore and 
aching in every limb. Then the order to mount was 
given and the party started. 

Forbidding as the country they had already come 
through had been, the stretch that they were travers- 
ing now was infinitely more so. They were at the 
20 


INTO THE AHAGGER 


217 


extreme eastern edge of the Tanezrafet where it narrows 
towards the Tripoli frontier, and the Emir Abd-ul- 
malek, instead of skirting it, was taking the party right 
through. It was a nightmare of a journey. All 
around stretched the yellow sand unbroken by even a 
rock or a stone, and without even a lizard moving on its 
surface. Overhead stretched a sky like bluish-white 
metal, from which the sun struck down with a force 
that seemed to roast the living flesh on the bones, 
and to dry every particle of moisture out of the 
system. 

Even the Arabs seemed to feel the heat, and the 
Kabyles and coast-bred Berbers suffered from it as 
much as the two Europeans. 

Once Jim asked Ahmed for how far this ghastly 
stretch endured, but he only made a vague gesture to 
show his ignorance. 

“ Allah who created it alone knows,” he said. “ Still 
the Tanezrafet was once fertile country.” 

Jim looked surprised. 

“ Fertile ? ” he said ; “ it looks as if it had been sand 
and sun for ever. What happened to it ? ” 

“ Allah cursed it,” replied Ahmed, “ on account of 
the sins of men. Once, thousands of years ago, it was 
a fair and fertile land, ruled over by a king, named 
Ad. But the king and his people deserted the 
worship of the One God, and followed after idols. 
Allah was very patient with them, and waited for 
a long time until their deeds became so evil that at 
last even his patience became exhausted. Then the 
rain ceased to come in the country of Ad. Day after 
day the sun shone in a blue sky as it shines now, but 
! never a drop of rain fell, and the trees drooped, and 
the harvest never came, and the cattle died of 


218 LOST SHEEP 


drought. But still the wicked King Ad and his 
people refused to leave their idols and turn to 
Allah. 

“ At last after the drought had lasted three years 
King Ad called his counsellors around him and told 
them that if the rain did not come the people must 
perish, and asked their advice. So one said one thing 
and one another, and at last they determined to go to 
the Old' Ones of the Ahagger yonder.” Here Ahmed 
made the sign of the Horns, against evil old as the 
world itself — if he had been a Catholic he would have 
crossed himself — and continued : 

“ They chose three of the king’s counsellors, old and 
very wise men, and they left the land of Ad to go to the 
Ahagger, taking the best of the beasts and the king's 
only son with them as a sacrifice to Those. Then deep 
in the Ahagger one night they did what has to be done 
before the Old Ones will speak, and waited for what 
might chance. Before long, a great voice came to them 
telling them to look at the sky in the morning and to 
choose one of the three clouds they would see there. 
So in great fear they waited until the dawn, and then 
high up in the sky they saw three clouds, one white, 
one red, and one black. 

“ They thought that the black cloud must surely 
contain rain, and they chose that, and again the voice 
answered them saying that their wish was granted. 
Now all this time Ad and his people had been waiting 
for the rain which never came, but one day at dawn, out 
of the eastern sky, came a small, black cloud, which 
grew and spread until it covered the face of all the 
heavens. 

“ Then King Ad and his people cried aloud, praising 
their idols, while the sky grew darker and darker, and 


INTO THE AHAGGER 219 


then at last the cloud burst. But there was no rain in 
it, nothing but thunder and lightning, which smote 
down and destroyed both man and beast, and after 
the thunder came a great wind. When the sky cleared 
again the land of Ad was as you see it now, and since 
then never a drop of water has Allah sent to it. Yet 
men say that somewhere in the Tanezrafet the city 
and palace of Ad still remain. Men have seen it from a 
distance, but when they try to approach it vanishes 
away. This is the story of Ad the Idolater and what 
his idols did for him. There is but one God and Moham- 
med is His prophet 1 ” 

Jim and Morsec listened with interest to this wild 
legend. Ahmed was a vivid story-teller, and while he 
was speaking they had almost been able to see the 
black cloud coming closer and closer to the thirst- 
smitten land, and bearing only destruction with it. 

Then Morsec asked : 

“ But who were the Old Ones whom you speak of, 
those to whom King Ad sent to for help ? ” 

But Ahmed turned on him angrily. “ Hush ! ” 
he said, “ no good comes of speaking of Those 1 
How do I know who they were — or are ? All 
that anyone knows is that they are — were there, 
and that they built the House of the Stones long ago. 
Remember, no good comes of mentioning the Old 
Ones I ” 

He was obviously in earnest, and Morsec did not 
pursue the subject. 

As a matter of fact, he had very little inclination to 
talk on that, or any other subject. The heat was 
terrific, and seemed as if it made the very brain boil 
and seethe. Twice the party halted, but only for the 
very shortest time necessary to give rest and refresh- 


220 


LOST SHEEP 


ment to men and camels, when the march was 
resumed. Then against the Eastern sky rose the 
tops of mountains and Ahmed, riding up beside the 
prisoners, pointed forward. “ El Ahagger,” he said 
briefly. 

Both Jim and Morsec looked forward. They were 
too far away as yet to see more than the shape of the 
mountains ahead, but they seemed to be of considerable 
height, and to follow no special direction. They 
looked as if some huge child had taken a heap of 
stones of all sizes and shapes and thrown them down 
carelessly, and then left them. Several of the summits 
shone blinding white in the sun, but for the most 
part they were simply grey rock, with no sign of 
vegetation on them whatever, and Jim thought that 
the Arab name for them, “ El Ahagger '* — the stones — 
described them perfectly. Stark and bleak they stood 
up against the sky, seeming like a barrier between one 
world and the other. Even in that blinding sunlight 
they appeared without form and void, and as if they 
belonged to another and infinitely remote age. 

However, the sight seemed to put fresh life into the 
Arabs. The pace was increased, and within three or 
four hours they arrived under the shadow of the out- 
lying spurs of mountain range. This in itself was a 
relief. In comparison with the open desert the shade 
of the mountains seemed absolutely chilly, and men 
unloosed their face-cloths and drew in great breaths of 
the cooler air. 

In the desert there had been no wind, only dead 
stillness and the pitiless sun, but under the mountains 
there were little cold breezes constantly springing up 
and dying away again, as if they had come out of 
Nowhere and then passed into Nothingness. 


INTO THE AHAGGER 


221 


For an hour the party rode along the face of the 
mountains, and then suddenly the Emir, who was riding 
ahead, turned his camel into a narrow defile between 
two rock walls, and the rest of the party followed him. 

For some way the gully was wide enough for four 
men to ride abreast, but it gradually narrowed until 
there was not six inches between the camel's flanks 
and the rock wall when the party was in single file. 
It was late in the afternoon, and the rock walls towered 
up on each side, shutting out what light there was, 
and the party rode forward in a darkness which was 
only broken by stray gleams which filtered down 
from above, in places where the sides of the gully 
were lower than in others. It was impossible to see 
what the ground was like, but judging by the easy pace 
of the camels, it was firm and level. 

For another two hours the journey continued through 
the gully. Owing to the continual twists and turns 
which it took the two prisoners found it impossible to 
maintain any sense of direction, and rode on in silence, 
following the men in front of them. 

Somehow the atmosphere of the Ahagger did not 
tend to promote conversation, and Jim and Morsec 
did not speak to each other. Then, as the narrow 
patch of sky which they could see above the walls 
became dark, the gully suddenly widened out and they 
found themselves in a large, open space, roughly cir- 
cular in form, and from which on every side gullies, 
apparently exactly the same as that by which they had 
come, stretched away. So alike were the entrances 
to these that Jim had difficulty, on looking round, in 
picking out the one they had come by. 

He mentioned this to Morsec who laughed. 

“I thought of that,” he said. “Had a good look 


222 LOST SHEEP 


at the place as we came out of it. Most of the rocks 
are grey, but a few yards down there’s a red one that 
stands out a bit. It was too dark to see very well, 
but I was quite close to it and had a good look. It may 
come in useful if we ever get a chance to get out of 
this damned stone heap.” 

Jim did not feel hopeful on the subject. The 
Ahagger did not seem an easy place either to get into 
or out of, and he said so to his companion, but Morsec 
refused to be daunted. A southern Frenchman is 
apt to be either plunged in the depths of despair or 
else extremely sanguine, and the optimistic side of 
' Morsec’s nature was in the ascendant for the moment. 
He was in progress of sketching a scheme of escape to 
Jim, which according to himself was absolutely 
infallible, when his camel, following the' example of 
the one in front of him, knelt down, almost shooting 
its rider over its head, and the latter half of Morsec’s 
scheme was lost in a pointed discourse which he 
delivered on the subject of the camel and its dis- 
advantages as a means of locomotion. 

The Arabs did not seem pleased at the halt. They 
had brought a supply of dried camel’s dung — the fuel 
of the desert — with them, and before even they had 
unsaddled their camels they lit a fire of it. Then they 
saw to their mounts, keeping as close together as pos- 
sible while doing so, and, having accomplished this duty, 
lit several more small fires, as close as possible to the 
centre one, and huddled round them. They also 
showed solicitude for the prisoners, one of them 
signing to them to come up to a fire. Even the Emir 
Ab-ul-malek abandoned his policy of aloofness and 
came over and seated himself at a fire, in company of 
several of his sous-officiers. 


INTO THE AHAGGER 223 


Jim found himself seated close to Ahmed, the Arab 
who acted as interpreter, and, being curious as to the 
cause of the general thinly-veiled uneasiness, asked 
him what was the cause of it. 

The Arab looked behind him before answering. 

“ This is a bad place,” he said, “ a very bad place. 
There are ghouls and Afrites who wander by night 
in the Ahagger, and lead men to destruction both of 
soul and body. And besides there are the Old Ones. 
It is a very bad place, and I wish the Emir had not 
halted ! ” 

His comrades seemed to be very much of the same 
opinion. Instead of settling down to sleep as usual 
they crouched over the fires, huddling as close to each 
other as possible and ever and again looking nervously 
over their shoulders. 

The place where they were encamped was full of 
noises. Every now and again a little wind would 
blow, and the flames from the fires would leap up, 
throwing their light on the dark faces grouped around. 
The wind would die again, there would be dead 
silence for a few minutes, and then would come 
sounds from the mouth of one or other of the gullies 
which led off the open space, like people talking 
continuously in a low voice. Once Jim could have 
sworn that he heard a laugh close behind him — a most 
unpleasant laugh — made up in equal parts of contempt 
and evil desire, but there was nothing to be seen. 
All the same he was almost certain that the Arabs 
had heard it as well, for several of them, at the same 
moment, and moved apparently by the same impulse, 
proclaimed aloud that there was no God but Allah, 
and that Mohammed was His prophet. 

Altogether it was rather a nerve-trying night. 


224 


LOST SHEEP 


Whether the fears of his companions communicated 
themselves to him in some subtle way, or whether the 
atmosphere of the place got on his nerves, Jim felt 
somehow that there was something indefinably wrong 
with the place and the night, something, as it were, 
vaguely hostile and malignant in close proximity which 
only refrained from manifesting itself in tangible 
shape for reasons of its own. 

At last the men around the fires composed themselves 
to sleep, and the two prisoners followed their example. 
Morsec, as usual, was asleep in a few minutes, but 
try as he would Jim could not get off. As a rule, 
he was anything but a nervous man, but to-night the 
atmosphere of the place where he was seemed to lie on 
his nerves and to prevent him sleeping. He found 
himself listening for sounds during the intervals 
of silence and trying to locate them, but without 
success. 

Suddenly one of the fires close to where he lay 
leaped up in a momentary burst of flame, and on the 
other side of it he saw a figure. It was that of a woman, 
and in the flickering light Jim saw her distinctly. 
She was very tall, and dressed in a black robe, which 
seemed to be much torn, for through the rents of it 
the light of the fire shone on her bare body. But it was 
her face which held Jim’s attention. It was the face 
of a young woman but dead white — as white as that 
of a corpse — and with vivid red lips. The woman 
passed over to the other side of the fire, and bent 
down over one of the Arabs who was sleeping there. 
Then suddenly far away a cock crew, the figure of 
the woman seemed to waver and grow indistinct, and 
to Jim’s amazement she was gone. 

Almost immediately afterwards the men around 


INTO THE AHAGGER 225 


the fires began to move, and shortly afterwards 
Morsec awoke. 

Jim told him what he had seen, but he was incredu- 
lous, though interested. 

“ Nonsense," he said, “ you were dreaming. How 
are women going to get here ? I wish there were some. 
I could have done with a bit of company last night 
myself. No, you thought you were awake — one 
often does when one is soundest asleep — but any- 
how a dream woman is better than no woman 
at all I ” 

After a while Jim put down what he had seen to the 
same cause. His nerves had probably been on edge, 
and he had been unable to distinguish between the 
sleeping and waking states — and he dismissed the 
experience at that. 

However, when the Arabs proceeded to saddle 
their camels for the day's march, one of them — the 
man whom Jim had seen the female figure bending 
over — found that his neck was sore and swollen. 
Jim mentioned his “ dream ” to Ahmed, and 
that worthy went greyish-green under his dark 
skin. 

“ That was one of the accursed ones — a ghoul," he 
said. “ If the cock had not crowed she would have 
torn in pieces and devoured that man, but, by the 
grace of Allah, the Things of the night have no 
power after the cock crows ! I told you this was an 
evil place ! " 

Jim laughed, but not with entire conviction. This 
was the twentieth century, and he was a soldier of 
the Foreign Legion, wearing clothes made in a modern 
workshop under modern conditions, but it was being 
borne in on him that neither the place where he was 


p 


226 LOST SHEEP 


nor the people among whom he found himself had any- 
thing modern about them, with the exception of their 
weapons. 

Then far away the cock crew again, and the first 
rays of the sun lit the summits of the Ahagger. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE HOUSE OF THE STONES 

F OR the next three or four hours the way which the 
party followed led through another gully. 
There was much more light now, although 
it was broken and diffused, and Jim was able to 
form an idea of his surroundings. The passage lay 
through great rocks, in places higher than others, 
and was still very narrow. After a while, however, the 
character of it changed. So far both the gully which 
they had traversed on entering the Ahagger, and the 
one in which they now were, were obviously the works 
of Nature, but it was plain that the passage, while in 
part natural, in places owed something to human aid. 
The rocks at the side were smoothed away, and on 
looking down Jim could see that the floor of the gully 
was paved with great slabs of stone. Then the 
road began to lead upwards, gradually at first, but 
more and more steadily, until at last it assumed the 
proportions of a steep slope. The rocks, too, at each 
side were much lower, and seemed to have been 
levelled off to a more or less uniform height, giving 
a glimpse of mountain peaks ahead and at each side. 
Once the Arab, Ahmed, who was riding in front of Jim, 
turned in his saddle and pointed forward. 

“ The House of the Stones/' he said briefly. 

Jim looked, but, except several rocky peaks half 
227 


228 


LOST SHEEP 


visible over the walls of the gully, could make out 
nothing remotely resembling a house. Then as they 
turned a corner the peaks in front seemed to shape 
themselves into the towers of a great castle, with walls 
and battlements. 

Jim looked again and decided that it must be fancy, 
for seen from a different angle the towers seemed to 
reshape themselves into rock pinnacles. However, 
just then the party halted for a moment and, in obedi- 
ence to an order from the leader, two Arabs approached 
the prisoners and blindfolded them tightly, afterwards 
pulling the hoods of the haiks down over their faces to 
make assurance doubly sure. 

Then the march recommenced, always in an upward 
direction, as Jim could feel from the pace of his camel. 

There was another momentary halt, and voices 
gave and received question and answer ; then, blind- 
folded as he was, Jim could feel that they were no 
longer in the fresh air. The pad-pad of the camels 
seemed to echo back from the vault of an arch and the 
air around had the curious stagnant quality of a con- 
fined space. Once he put up his hand in an attempt 
to feel the wall, but only succeeded in receiving a 
smart blow of a spear shaft on his arm from one of his 
escort, accompanied by a sharp order, which he inter- 
preted to mean that he should keep his hands down. 

For nearly half an hour the march continued through 
this passage, then suddenly there was a feeling of 
fresh air and the camels halted and knelt. The cloths 
which covered the eyes of the prisoners were twitched 
off, and they could look around them — which they 
proceeded to do with interest. 

The place where they found themselves was a suffi- 
ciently curious one. They were in a vast square 


THE HOUSE OF THE STONES 229 


surrounded on all sides by mighty walls, pierced in 
places on the level of the ground by arches, which led 
away into dark tunnels, and higher up by windows. 
The walls around them stretched upwards to a vast 
height, and indeed the scale of the whole building, 
courtyard, walls, and arches seemed to be absolutely 
titanic. 

From the archways men began to stream out, all 
clad as Jim’s captors were, in green djellab and white 
haik, and began to fraternise with their returned 
comrades. One of them, who seemed to be an officer 
of some kind, greeted the Emir Abd-ul-malek respect- 
fully, and entered into conversation with him, the Emir 
seemingly asking for and receiving information. 

Then he called an order, and Ahmed and another 
Arab, unslinging their rifles, took charge of Morsec 
and Jim, escorting them through one of the arch- 
ways and up a flight of steps, which were on as large a 
scale as the rest of the building. They were of stone, 
worn and polished by the tread of millions of feet, but 
what struck Jim most was the height of the steps. 
Every step, instead of being at the most six or eight 
inches high, was fully eighteen and the whole flight, 
though not long — consisting perhaps of thirty or forty 
stairs — was terribly arduous to men who had just 
finished a long journey on camels. He noticed, too, 
that the walls were built of great square blocks of 
stone, apparently fitted to each other without the aid 
of mortar, and so closely that it was only with difficulty 
that any joint could be seen. 

At the top of the stairs the prisoners and their escort 
turned sharply to the right along a corridor, walled and 
floored with the same great stones, and lighted dimly 
at intervals by lamps attached to the walls. This 


230 


LOST SHEEP 


corridor was cut at intervals by others in which Jim 
caught occasional glimpses of white clad figures moving 
about, but although he saw a good many of these the 
size of the place seemed to engulf them, much as a 
street in a town with a hundred or so people in it 
seems to be almost empty. As a matter of fact, the 
House of the Stones seemed to be more in the nature of 
a town, walled in and roofed with stone, than a house 
or castle. 

The party traversed several corridors and at last 
nalted before a great door which Ahmed opened and 
then motioned Jim and Morsec to enter. 

They did so, and found themselves in a vast and 
lofty room, furnished only with a couple of angarebs, or 
native bedsteads. Along one side of the wall for a 
distance of about twelve feet ran a ledge, evidently 
meant for a seat, for at each side of it were arm-rests, 
but it was built on the same huge scale as everything 
else in the building, and a man of average height 
sitting on it would have found his feet at least a foot 
from the ground. 

Ahmed saw his charges safely inside the room, and 
then telling them briefly that food and water would be 
sent to them, departed, closing the great door behind 
him with a heavy clang. 

The two looked at each other and then round them. 
With the exception of the two bedsteads the great room 
was absolutely bare of furniture, and was lighted only 
by a couple of evil-smelling oil lamps of primitive 
design. 

Then Morsec seated himself on one of the beds, and 
loosened the collar of his tunic. 

“ Eh bien,” he remarked, “ here we are in our hotel 
at last ! What do you think of it, mon ami ? ” 


THE HOUSE OF THE STONES 231 


Jim looked round again. “ It’s a bit bare/’ he said, 
“ but did you ever see such a building in your life ? 
Where on earth did they get the stones for it, and how 
did they get them on top of each other ? Look here/* 
and he indicated a huge block in the wall, which 
must have been some thirty feet square. “ See, there’s 
no mortar and yet it fits so closely to the one next it 
that one could hardly put a finger nail between them. 
Ahmed said that the Old Ones built this place. I 
wonder who they were ! ” 

“ Question is,” answered Morsec, “ where we are, 
and how we are going to get out of it, and not who 
built this place. If you’ll give me some idea of what 
you think is going to happen to us, and what chance 
there is of getting out of this damned catacomb, I’ll 
argue about anything else you like afterwards. At 
present we are absent from our garrison without 
leave, and our duty to the regiment, let alone our duty 
to ourselves, is to get back as soon as possible ! ” 

“ I know that,” replied Jim, “ but I don’t see what 
there is to be done. We are shut up here just about 
as safely as if we were in the centre of the earth, and the 
only thing that I can see to be done is to wait until 
somebody fetches us out. They are sure to come for us 
presently.” 

Morsec grunted. 

“ I wish they would,” he said. “ This place gives me 
the creeps. It feels a lot too like as if it had been dead 
for a thousand years or so to be healthy. And those 
people we saw in the corridors looked like a lot of white 
ghosts. No — give me somewhere a bit smaller and 
cosier than this to live in. Hello I here’s some one 
coming 1 ” 

The door opened and Ahmed and another Arab 


232 LOST SHEEP 


entered carrying two great skin water-bottles, and 
two metal basins, which they placed on the floor. 
Then Ahmed turned to the prisoners. 

“ Wash yourselves and do not be long over it," he 
said. “ Our lord, El Senussi, desires to see you, and he 
does not love to be kept waiting ! ” 

Both Jim and Morsec were only too glad of the 
order. Since they had left Ain Sefra, water had been a 
precious commodity — far too precious to be used for 
cleansing purposes — and their personal appearance had 
suffered considerably during the journey. Besides 
this, the collar of Jim’s tunic was glued to his neck by 
the dried blood from the blow on his head which he 
had received when he had been captured, and the cold 
sting of the water made him feel like a new man. Then 
both men got into their sorely dilapidated clothes 
again, and after having made each other look as 
respectable as possible followed their guide. 

The way led through more stone-paved passages, and 
seemed to be almost interminable. Passage succeeded 
passage, now to the right, now to the left, and after a 
quarter of an hour’s walk neither Morsec nor Jim had 
the least idea in what direction they had travelled, or 
how far they were from thei r original starting-point. 
At length the party halted before a great stone door, 
on which Ahmed knocked in a peculiar manner. The 
door swung open quite noiselessly, and as Jim passed it 
he could see that it was less of a door than a solid slab 
some four feet thick, which some hidden mechanism 
had moved out of the wall, and which, when they had 
passed in, closed as noiselessly as it had opened. 

The place where they had entered was a huge hall, so 
huge that to Jim’s eyes it seemed at first to contain 
only a few people, but, when he had time to look around 


THE HOUSE OF THE STONES 233 


him and his eyes had become accustomed to its vast 
size, he saw that there must be at least two hundred 
there, almost all, with the exception of a small group 
at the far end, armed men ranged in perfect rank along 
the wall. 

Ahmed and the other Arab handed the prisoners 
over to six men who stepped out from this rank, and 
who, placing them in their centre, conducted them up 
to the end of the hall, and halted in front of a dais. 

On this dais was seated a man, clad from head to 
foot in white ; two others were standing on each side. 
One of these was the Emir Abd-ul-malek, and to Jim’s 
amazement the other was — Hassan Ali ! Jim looked 
at the dais, then rubbed his eyes and looked again. 
Seated beside the white-clad figure was a woman, and 
Jim looked again and gasped. It was the girl Amine 
whom he had seen last in the House in the Garden at 
Ain Sefra. 

Jim Lingard had had an Irish nurse who, when he 
asked too many questions, had been wont to inform him 
that he “ addled her head.” He had often wondered 
how an addled head felt, but now he had a very fair 
idea. How in the name of all that was fantastic had 
the girl Amine and Hassan Ali got into the Ahagger ? 
Oh, he must be dreaming, or suffering from a touch 
of fever, and if he only looked long enough, and steadily 
enough, both Amine and Hassan Ali would fade away. 
He kicked his ankle with the heel of his boot to see 
if the sudden pain would dispel the vision, and 
looked again. Both Hassan Ali and the girl were still 
there. 

Hassan Ali was looking at Jim with an expression of 
extreme surprise on his face, and Amine was lying back 
on the dais in the same attitude which Jim remembered 


234 LOST SHEEP 


so well, and smiling her mocking smile. As her eye 
caught Jim’s glance, however, she gave him a barely 
perceptible nod. Slight as it was, however, Hassan Ali 
saw it, and a look of black fury replaced the surprise on 
his face. 

Then Jim looked at the other figure on the dais. 
To his surprise it was that of a white man — burnt by 
the sun to almost the tint of an Arab, but still a 
European. The man was old, and with a long, grey 
beard which swept over his white robe as far as his 
waist. His features were thin and aristocratic, and 
were even now strikingly handsome. The eyes were 
the peculiar feature of the face. They looked as if 
they were made of grey stone, so hard and without ex- 
pression were they, and as they rested on the prisoners 
Jim felt as if he had come into sudden contact with an 
east wind. Then the white-clad figure spoke. 

“You two,” he said in perfect French, “ belong to 
the French Foreign Legion ? ” 

Morsec, as the senior of the prisoners, replied in the 
affirmative. 

“ Rank ? ” inquired the other. 

Morsec gave the required information. 

“ I wish to know,” went on the cold voice, “ what are 
the strength of the French forces at Ain Sefra, and its 
out-stations ? ” 

Morsec laughed. “ Oh, five hundred thousand men, 
or five thousand, or five million,” he said. “You 
can take your choice. Enough to deal with you ! ” 

“You are warned not to he, or to jest,” said the 
figure on the dais, without visible emotion. “ The 
strength of the French forces ? ” 

Morsec laughed again and shook his head, and the 
man on the dais turned to Jim. 


THE HOUSE OF THE STONES 235 


“ The strength of the French forces ? ” he said 
quietly. 

Jim shook his head as Morsec had done. He might 
not be a Frenchman, might be only a sergeant of the 
Legion with the temporary rank of adjutant, but 
they were not going to get any information out of 
him. 

The old man made a languid sign; there was the 
wheep of steel being drawn, two of the guards un- 
sheathed their flissas, and moved behind the prisoners, 
measuring their distance for a sweep. 

“ The strength of the French forces ? ” came the 
question again. 

Neither of the prisoners answered. Jim could only 
hope that he was showing as calm a front to imminent 
death as Morsec was. The latter was standing gazing 
through dais and occupants as if neither of them 
existed, with a bored smile on his lips, and Jim 
wondered if he himself was concealing his feelings 
half as successfully as his comrade was. 

He felt as if a piece of ice was laid at the nape of 
his neck, and was slowly extending around it. It 
was only by a tremendous exercise of his will that he 
prevented himself from turning his head, but he 
imitated Morsec, and looked straight in front with 
what he prayed with his whole heart was the correct 
bored expression. 

One minute went by ! — two I — and Jim’s knees were 
beginning to feel as if they had lost all strength. The 
cold ache in the back of his neck began to become 
unbearable, but still he stared straight in front of him. 

How would it feel, he wondered, when the blow came. 
He wished they would be quick and get it over, he 
wished that white-clad image in front of him would 


236 LOST SHEEP 


stop staring with those damned rotten eyes of his, 
he wished 

And then the old man made a sign. The two guards 
sheathed their steel and stood back, and Morsec and 
Jim simultaneously rocked a little on their feet, but 
pulled themselves together and stood stiffly upright. 

Jim’s head was reeling, and a black curtain seemed 
to be rising and falling in front of his eyes, but he 
seemed to hear his own voice speaking insistently into 
his ear, as if it were giving an order to some one 
else : “You must stand up straight! For God’s sake, 
don’t let them see you are frightened ! ” His nerves 
steadied slowly, and he saw that the old man before 
him was smiling coldly, and stroking his beard. Then 
he spoke : 

“You are brave men,” he said. “ Still, whether 
a man is brave or a coward, when he is dead he is no 
more than a piece of clay. I will speak to you again ! ” 
He waved his hand and the guards closed in on the 
prisoners and escorted them down the hall. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE HEART OF THE STONES 

T HE door of their prison clashed to behind the 
escort, and Morsec turned to Jim and smote 
him hard between the shoulders. 

“ ' y a de bon, mon vieux ,” he said. “You saw 
that through well ! I was watching you out of the 
corner of my eye, and if you had flinched — well, I 
would have gone to pieces ! As it was, I felt as if my 
knees were made of chewed string I And," here he 
passed his hand tenderly over the back of his neck, 
“ my neck hasn't got warm yet ! Every second we 
were standing there I could feel that flissa going 
through it, just where it joins on to the backbone. 
And here we are after all without a scratch on our 
beautiful white skins ! ” 

Jim laughed a little. 

“ Flinch ? ” he replied. “ I wanted to badly 
enough, but I was looking at you and you seemed to 
take things quietly enough and — well, I didn’t want to 
spoil the reputation of the regiment I ’’ 

Morsec threw back his head and laughed too. 

“ Vive la legion / " he said. “ I wouldn't flinch 
because you wouldn’t, and you wouldn't because I 
wouldn't, and it all goes to the credit of the Legion l 
Pardieu, though, that old man — El Senussi, I suppose 
he calls himself — did you see his eyes. They looked 
237 


238 LOST SHEEP 


like grey stones. I wonder why he spared us ? Judg- 
ing by appearances, I shouldn't say he was a merciful 
person." 

“ He probably wants us for something else," returned 
Jim, “ ransom or information. And he's a white man 
too — French I should say." 

Morsec shook his head. 

“ He’s no Frenchman," he replied. “ He speaks 
French, true. So do you, but you are not French, 
and neither is he. Whoever he is he has those Arbis 
of his under good discipline, though." 

“So he ought to have," replied Jim. “You saw 
how they kept discipline that time at El Rasa. What 
I'm thinking about is, suppose they really want 
information, and try that way to get it out of us ? 
Personally, I don't care for the prospect." 

“ They may try, but they won’t get any informa- 
tion," returned Morsec calmly. “ Look here," and 
he produced something from the breast of his tunic. 
“ I slipped this into my pocket before we left 
Douargala — I thought it might come in useful. They 
didn’t search me very thoroughly — et voild ! " 

Jim looked with interest at the article which his 
companion held forward. It was a small pistol of 
the Browning type, so small that it looked almost 
a toy, but he knew that even the smallest Browning 
made will let the life out of the strongest man who 
ever walked the earth. 

“Five shots," continued Morsec, “ and the magazine 
is full. If the worst comes to the worst, and they try 
torture, well, there is but one bullet for you and one for 
myself, but first there are three for ces messieurs. I 
have no wish for empalement — me ! " 

Jim nodded gravely. He could not yet forget 


THE HEART OF THE STONES 239 


that naked, contorted figure on the palm-tree, with 
the vultures descending on it. 

“ Let us hope it will not come to that,” he said 
soberly. “If it does, well, that gives us a clean and 
easy death. I don’t like the Senussi methods any 
better than you do ! ” 

Morsec patted his Browning lovingly and replaced 
it in his breast pocket. Then he produced his watch 
and looked at it with a sigh. 

“ Have you any idea what the time is ? ” he said. 
“ My watch is macache , and we seem to have been here 
for years.” 

“ Not the slightest,” said Jim. “ We might as well 
be in the centre of the earth as here for anything we 
can see. There is no light from the outside. Look 
here, I’m going to have a look round. I don’t suppose 
it will do much good, but still one never knows ! ” 
and he turned away and proceeded to make a 
careful scrutiny of the walls and flooring of their 
prison. 

However, his examination led to nothing. Both 
walls and floor were of the same great stones, fitted so 
accurately together that it would have been impossible 
to introduce the blade of a knife between them, and 
after some time he gave up his task in disgust and 
returned to his companion, to whom he confided his 
opinion on the builders of the rock fortress in a few 
pithy sentences. 

The time wore on slowly. After what seemed an 
interminable time the door was opened, and food and 
water placed inside, by which they judged that it 
was evening in the other world, but they received 
no visitors, and the food was placed before them in 
dead silence. 


240 


LOST SHEEP 


They ate and drank, and then Morsec produced 
a couple of battered cigarettes, one of which he offered 
to Jim. 

“ My last grain of tobacco,” he said. “ Eh bien, 
perhaps to-morrow we will not need it, so let us enjoy 
it while we may 1 ” 

He lit his cigarette, and seated himself on the bench 
beside the wall, Jim following his example. 

Neither of the prisoners felt inclined to talk. The 
fear of the future was heavy on both of them, although 
either would have died rather than own it to the other. 
Both of them were young and healthy, and the prospect 
of violent death, with or without added torture, did not 
appeal to them in the least; but the fact remained 
that they were in the absolute power of people who 
would think less than nothing of applying torture as a 
means of obtaining any information they wished for. 
On the other hand, both the prisoners had made up 
their mind, though from different reasons, that not 
a word of information which might be useful to their 
captors should pass their lips. 

Morsec was a Frenchman, and, volatile and reck- 
less as he was, had all the French officer’s pride in 
his rank, and would have been cut in pieces alive rather 
than do anything to degrade it even in his own estima- 
tion. Jim Lingard was a foreigner serving France as 
a “ mercenary ” for a miserable wage, but he was also 
an English gentleman, and faithful to the duty which 
he owed to the country he served. The impasse 
appeared complete, and in the face of what seemed 
likely to happen it was not to be wondered at that 
neither of the prisoners was talkative. They both 
sat on the stone bench with their feet dangling, each 
smoking slowly — husbanding their last tobacco to 


THE HEART OF THE STONES 241 


the full — and each fully occupied with his own gloomy 
thoughts. 

Then quite suddenly and without noise the door 
opened, and both men sprang to their feet as a female 
figure entered. Jim’s heart gave a great bound which 
seemed to lodge it in the bottom of his throat as he 
realised that the new-comer was Amine. 

The girl came forward towards Jim with her hands 
outstretched. 

“ I could not come before/’ she said, “ and even as 
it was I had difficulty in getting away.” 

And she looked back over her shoulder with the 
gesture of one who is being spied on. 

Morsec had risen to his feet and, as the girl paused, 
bowed to her, but she took no notice whatever of him, 
and continued speaking to Jim. 

“ I did not dare to notice you in the hall just now,” 
she said, “ and when my father questioned you and 
you refused to answer — ah, then I thought I should 
never see you again. But the Protection against 
steel held. I have never known my father hold back 
the order to strike until to-day ! ” 

Jim’s head was in a whirl. So Amine, the girl 
whom he had held in his arms in the house in the garden, 
was the daughter of the Senussi. That was what 
she meant when she spoke of service to be taken and 
gold to be won in the South. He smiled and turned 
to the girl. 

“ You were right after all,” he said, “ when you said 
that I was coming South. I wish, though, that I 
could have cleaned myself before I saw you. It was 
rather a trying journey, and I’m afraid I am hardly 
fit for a lady to see I ” 

The girl looked at him. 

Q 


242 LOST SHEEP 


“You are wounded/' she said suddenly, “ how ? " 

“ One of El Senussi’s — your father's men caressed 
and persuaded me with the butt of his rifle into 
accepting his hospitality," returned Jim with a laugh; 
“ but it's hardly what one would call a wound." 

Amine looked relieved. “ The butt of a rifle ? " 
she said, half to herself, “ then the Protection held 
there too — neither lead nor steel, Abs’laam said! " 
Then she came close to Jim and put her hands 
on his shoulders. Morsec might have been miles away 
for any notice that she took of him. 

“ Listen, Jeem," she said. “ If you try to withstand 
my father you are in danger here, and not even I can 
save you. As it is, I do not know what is going to 
happen. My father is undecided, but Hassan Ali has 
told him that you and that other " — here she indicated 
Morsec with a jerk of her head — “ would be better dead, 
and my father listens to Hassan Ali — sometimes ! " 

“ But," interrupted Jim, “ I don’t understand. The 
whole thing is rather confusing. Who is Hassan Ah, 
and why should he want me — or us — dead ? " 

“ Hassan Ali," Amine replied, “ is the right arm, 
and will be successor, of my father — our lord, El 
Senussi ! He hates all Roumis and he hates you , Jeem, 
in especial because — because," — and she put her lips 
close to his ear — “ of Ain Sefra. My father wishes 
me to be his wife, and he wishes so too — but I — no, 
not now ! Some one at Ain Sefra spoke. If I knew who 
it was they should never speak again ! " 

It was only by an effort that Jim prevented himself 
from whistling. The adventure into which he had 
entered so light-heartedly at Ain Sefra seemed as if it 
were going to have serious consequences ; in fact there 
were all the materials for a tragedy ready to hand. 


THE HEART OF THE STONES 243 


Amine had evidently taken the episode seriously — 
after the manner of women whether they were of the 
East or West. She was the daughter of the Senussi, 
and neither he nor Hassan Ali was likely to show much 
mercy to anyone who appeared likely to interfere with 
their plans. Added to that Hassan Ali, whose power 
seemed to be second only to that of El Senussi him- 
self, had a private and particular reason for vengeance 
against Jim. The Oriental does not regard indis- 
cretions on the part of his womenfolk, either prospec- 
tive or actual, with favour. 

Setting aside Amine’s beauty, the marriage between 
her and Hassan Ah would be very much in the nature 
of an affair of State, and would tend to strengthen his 
power with the whole Senussi sect. It would not be 
likely to be abandoned for any reason whatever, and 
Jim knew that, if Hassan Ali had any idea of what 
had passed between him and Amine, he would be the 
person on whom vengeance would fall. 

“ And,” he asked, “ what does El Senussi say ? ” 

“ He told Hassan Ali,” the girl replied, “ that neither 
of you shall die — yet. The Senussi has men and guns, 
but he wants men to drill them, and he told Hassan 
Ali — I heard him — that if you two would join us your 
lives would be spared.” 

“ And Hassan Ali said ? ” asked Jim. 

“ Hassan Ali said nothing,” returned the girl; “Tie 
knows better than to question what my father says ! 
But I saw his face ! ” She looked at Morsec, who had 
gone to the other end of the room, and was studiously 
regarding the wall. 

“ See now, Jeem,” she continued, lowering her voice, 
“ he,” indicating Morsec, “ is French and a fool. 
But you — you are English, and what do you owe to 


244 LOST SHEEP 


France ? Nothing. Join my father and I promise 
you — I, Amine — all that you can wish for — power — 
gold — and myself. Hassan Ali ? Oh, there are ways, 
and I have powers to keep us safe from him. Some- 
times men die very suddenly here in the House of the 
Stones. Your comrade ? Bah ! if he will not come, 
let him die ! It will only be one Frenchman the less ! 
Oh, Jeem, for my sake — for your own, do not refuse 
what I ask of you 1 ” 

Her arms were round Jim’s neck, her great eyes were 
looking into his, and her lips were very near his own. 
He could feel his heart beating furiously, and the eyes 
in front of his seemed to be eating up his will. After 
all, what allegiance did he owe to France ? It was 
different with Morsec — he was a Frenchman — but 
why should he refuse what the girl offered him 
because he had signed his name on a piece of paper 
over there in Paris ? Even supposing he ever got 
away from where he was, what had he to look forward 
to except the dog’s life of the Legion, and at the end of 

it a dog’s grave in the desert, what Then with a 

great effort Jim Lingard pulled himself together, and 
spoke gently to the girl in front of him. 

“I am a soldier of France,” he said simply, “ and as 
long as I am alive I keep to my duty. I know you 
mean well, but — well — what you ask me to do is im- 
possible. Let us forget it, shall we ? ” 

The girl made a gesture of despair. 

“ Oh, you are foolish,” she said bitterly. “ Still, when 
my father sees you, speak him fairly, do not refuse at 
once. If you do you are as good as dead, and, besides, 
there are places here in the House of Stones which are 
worse than death ! Now I must go. I have stayed 
too long already. And remember, J eem, that as long as 


THE HEART OF THE STONES 245 


you are alive I shall be able to help you. Remember 
that, whatever happens ! ” 

She kissed him on the lips and turned to the 
door; a moment afterwards the prisoners were alone 
again. 

Morsec was the first to speak. 

“ Nice young woman that,” he remarked judicially. 
“ Seems to be an old friend of yours too ! Where did 
you run across her ? I’ve never had luck like that 
since I came to this cursed country ! ” And then as 
Jim did not answer, “ She seemed to have a lot to 
say to you, did she give you any news ? ” 

“Yes,” returned Jim. “ It seems that we are going 

to be given the option of joining the Senussi or ” 

and he paused expressively. 

“ And she tried to put pressure on you ? ” said 
Morsec. 

“ Yes, you might put it like that,” replied Jim. 

“ And ? ” 

“ I refused.” 

Morsec said nothing, but he extended his hand, 
which Jim took, and with that hand-clasp went the last 
vestige of temptation to do what he had been asked to. 
Come life, come death, he was a soldier of the Legion, 
and would remain so. 

Almost as their hands fell apart the door opened 
again. An Arab entered and made a sign for them 
to follow him, which the prisoners obeyed. Outside 
an escort was waiting, which at a word of command 
closed round them, and again marched them through 
the same maze of passages. 

This time, however, the march was not so long as the 
former one. After a few minutes prisoners and escort 
halted before a door at which the leader of the escort 


246 LOST SHEEP 


knocked. After a minute or two it was opened, and 
Jim and Morsec entered, accompanied only by two 
guards. 

A greater contrast than that between the great hall, in 
which they had been in the morning, and the room which 
they had just entered could scarcely be imagined. 

The place where they were now was a small room, and 
was furnished in a mixture of European and Oriental 
styles, but with perfect taste. In one corner was a 
divan, piled high with cushions, but there were also 
several armchairs, and in the centre of the room an 
American desk, at which was seated a man, writing, 
in whom the prisoners recognised the Senussi himself. 

As the prisoners entered, he made a sign, and con- 
tinued writing for some time, then raised his head. 

“ I understand/’ he said in French, “ that both of 
you belong to the legion etranghe — both of you are 
French, I presume ? ” 

Morsec replied in the affirmative, but Jim gave his 
nationality. 

The Senussi chief raised his eyebrows. 

“ English ? ” he said, and then in perfect English — • 
the English of the cultured classes — spoke to Jim. 
“ That is interesting,” he said ; “ I was English— once. 
It is very long since I have met an Englishman. ” Then 
he continued in French for Morsec’ s benefit : 

“ I want you both to understand,” he said, “ that 
you are absolutely in my power — mine to do as I 
please with. You have seen my men — I have 
50,000 more like them, and shall soon have a 
100,000. Men I can have for the asking, but 
officers — men who can drill them — I find harder to get, 
and for that reason I am going to make you an offer. 
Join my forces, and you will be released at once. 


THE HEART OF THE STONES 247 


Further, after a year’s service you will be free to go or 
remain, as you will. If at the end of that time you 
choose the former, in addition to your pay, which will 
be generous, you will be given £ 1000 English money 
or 25,000 francs, and will be conveyed to any part in 
Morocco you choose to name. If you elect to remain 
with me, well, in five years from now I shall be abso- 
lute master of Northern Africa, and shall know how to 
reward my friends 1 ” 

He stopped, and there was dead silence for the space 
of a minute or more. Then Morsec stepped forward. 

“ I refuse,” he said. 

The man at the desk turned to Jim with a look of 
inquiry. 

“ And you ? ” he said, and then in English, “ re- 
member you are not French, and owe nothing to 
France ! ” 

Jim looked him straight in the eyes. 

“ No,” he said, “ but I am a white man. I refuse 
also 1 ” 

The Senussi chief nodded pleasantly. 

“ I feared you would,” he said. “ Still we have ways 
and means of persuasion here, and perhaps when you 
have had a night to think it over you will be less 
obstinate. We can but try. Au revoir, messieurs ! ” 

He gave an order to the guards, and went on writing 
unconcernedly as Jim and Morsec were led from the 
room. 

Outside the escort closed around them, and the march 
recommenced. This time Jim noticed that they were 
not being taken back to their former quarters, but in 
a quite opposite and in a downward direction. 

Gloomy and dark as what they had already seen of 
the House of the Stones had been, it was bright and 


LOST SHEEP 


248 


cheerful compared with the part through which they 
were being taken. The way led ever downward and 
downward, and the walls instead of being built of 
squared stone now seemed to be of solid rock. At 
rare intervals to right and left were doors, but for the 
most part, as far as could be seen, there was nothing on 
either side but blank walls. The torches fixed at inter- 
vals in the walls grew rarer and rarer until the party 
were moving in a semi-obscurity, only broken by a 
light every hundred yards or so. 

At last their escort halted at the end of a passage, 
narrower and darker than any of its predecessors, and 
ordered their arms with a clang which echoed 
back from the roof. 

Here they waited for almost half an hour, and then 
at the end of the passage there was a gleam of torches 
and a flutter of white drapery. As the new-comers 
approached Jim was considerably disturbed, but not 
surprised, to see that the foremost of them was Hassan 
Ali. The other two were Arabs, fully armed. 

Hassan Ali bowed to the prisoners. 

“ I have come to show you your quarters, gentle- 
men, ’’ he said, “ at least your quarters for to-night. 
To-morrow, if you are still of the same mind as you are 
now, we will find somewhere else for you. If you will 
do me the favour to look, I think you will have a better 
idea of what I mean.” 

He took a torch from one of the escort and held it to 
a small grating in the wall, at the same time motioning 
with his other hand to Jim and Morsec to look inside. 

The first thing they were conscious of was an appalling 
stench, which took them by the back of the throat, and 
almost made them vomit. 

Hassan Ali smiled suavely. 


THE HEART OF THE STONES 249 


“ Yes,” he said, “ it is a little close in there, but look ; 
you will see better in a moment.” 

Both men peered through the grating, and as the 
light of the torch fell inside saw something move. It 
was a man, or rather had been a man, for now it was 
a thing. As it came closer to the grating Jim had to 
bite his lip to stop himself crying out. The face he 
saw was not a pleasant sight. Where the eyes should 
have been were cavities, the nose was gone, and the lips 
were cut away, giving the whole awful face an aspect 
of being fixed in an eternal grin. As the light of the 
torch fell on the floor of the cell, they could see that it 
was composed entirely of sharp, pointed stones, so that 
in no position was easy rest possible. 

Hassan Ali made a gesture of introduction. 

“ That ,” he observed, “ was one who angered our 
lord. I have merely shown him to you, gentlemen, to 
let you see what will happen to you should you refuse 
the chance which our lord in his goodness has given 
you. In the meanwhile, here are your quarters for the 
night.” 

He turned from the cell and its occupant, and pressed 
strongly on the opposite wall. As he did so a section of 
it, about six feet, seemed to sink into the flooring, 
leaving a dark square. Hassan Ali held the torch over 
his head, revealing a small cell, absolutely bare of any 
furniture, and smelling like a vault. 

In obedience to an order the guards led Morsec 
inside, and as they did so Hassan Ali turned to Jim. 

“ You dog,” he said, with his voice shaking with rage, 
“ as that is,” and he pointed to the grating, “ so shall 
you be to-morrow ! And when you are crawling in 
your filth and blindness I will bring your mistress to 
see you. You will not see us, but you will hear us ! ” 


LOST SHEEP 


250 


Jim laughed in his face and then yawned deliberately. 
“ Well/' he said in English, “ if you talk me to death 
first, you will have to forego the pleasure you seem to 
have promised yourself, and that would be a pity ! ” 
Hassan Ali looked for a moment as if he would 
strike the prisoner, but changed his mind, and made a 
sign to the guards, who pushed Jim through the door- 
way. Then the door rose from the floor, gradually 
shutting out the flickering yellow gleam of the torch, 
and Jim and his companion were in darkness, a dark- 
ness which seemed to press in on every side like a 
wall. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


BLACK MAGIC 

I N a room high up in the House of Stones the girl 
Amine was walking up and down. It seemed 
as if she were waiting for the arrival of somebody 
and that her nerves would not permit her to 
keep still for a moment. Once or twice she threw her- 
self down on a pile of cushions, but rose to her feet 
almost immediately and resumed her pacing. At 
last she turned towards the door, and in response to 
a light knock opened it, admitting a muffled figure 
which, as it loosened its wrappings, revealed itself as 
that of the old man Abs’laam. 

Before he had time to speak the girl gripped him by 
the arm. 

“ What news ? ” she asked. 

The old man spread his hands abroad. 

“ Bad news, Highness," he quavered. “ The Roumis 

have refused the offer of our lord and " 

But the girl cut him short. 

“ They are not dead ? " she gasped. 

Abs’laam shook his head. 

“ Not yet, Highness," he said ; “ but they are very 
near death, or worse. Our lord has ordered them to 
be confined, down there until to-morrow. Then it 
will be fire to the eyes and steel to the face for 
them." 


251 


252 LOST SHEEP 


Amine seized him by the shoulders and shook him 
savagely. 

“Talk like that/' she said between her teeth, “ and 
you go Below yourself ! No, I know it is not your 
fault, Abs’laam, but I am not myself. Tell me, is 
there no chance of the Roumis yielding ? ” 

Abs’laam shook his head. 

“ None, Highness,” he said. “ The two Roumis out- 
faced our lord, and I think will take what may befall 
them” — then, with reluctant admiration— “ they are 
men .” 

Amine considered for a moment, twisting her fingers 
together. 

“ Where are the Roumis now ? ” she asked abruptly. 

Abs’laam pointed downwards again. 

“ Down there ,” he replied. “ Where exactly, only our 
lord and Hassan Ali know ! ” 

The girl turned from him, and paced up and down 
the room in deep thought for some minutes. Then she 
approached the old man and spoke again. 

“ Abs’laam ’ibn Marbuk,” she said, “ men say 
that you know more than it is lawful for man to 
know. That I know is true, for have you not been 
my teacher ? Tell me now, is there any way in which 
I may come to these prisoners, or Any who will help 
me ? ” 

The old man hid his face. When he raised it he was 
trembling. 

“ Highness,” he said, “ there is One who can help 
you. But only evil comes of His help. Be guided by 
me, and leave those Roumis to their fate.” 

Amine did not appear to hear the last part of the 
sentence, or if she did paid no attention to it. She 
bent over the crouching figure. 


BLACK MAGIC 


253 


“You mean the Power ? ” she said in a whisper. 

The old man nodded in assent. 

“ He, the Great One — the Breaker in Pieces — the 
Destroyer/’ he answered, “ but, Highness, be warned ! 
No good comes of his help, and for it there is a price 
to be paid — a price which must be paid. Highness, I, 
Abs’laam ’ibn Marbuk, have known you since you were 
a little child, and all you know of the art you have learned 
from me, and I say — do not do this thing ! Let my 
lord have his will of this Roumi : for well I know it is 
only of one of them you are thinking. The Art, 
properly used, brings power and dominion over men, 
but no mortal ever accepted aid of that One without 
disaster coming of it. I, Abs’laam, who love you, 
ask you not to do this ! ” 

Amine listened to the old man’s words in silence. 
Then she replied, speaking more gently : 

“ Abs’laam,” she said, “ I know that you love me, 
and would not have me run into risk. But — I must 
free him. He is obstinate and will not go without his 
comrade. Now they are in the heart of the Stones, and 
Hassan Ali, who hates him, guards him. To-morrow 
will be too late. We must act to-night or not at all. 
And if that One will help me, he may destroy me after- 
wards 1 Abs’laam, I must have your help. You will 
show me how to call him, will you not ? ” 

Abs’laam sighed. “ A woman who loves is a woman 
mad,” he said half to himself, and then aloud, “ High- 
ness, I will obey, as I have always done. Listen 
now. In two hours I will come here and take you 
to the appointed place and do that which has to 
be done. And may the All-merciful have us both 
in his keeping to-night, for we shall need his protec- 
tion ! ” 


254 LOST SHEEP 


He turned and glided from the room, and Amine 
resumed her restless pacing. 


Two hours afterwards a knock came at the door, 
and Amine opened it. 

She had thrown a long cloak over her dress and 
pulled the hood over her head so that it concealed 
her face, but under it her great eyes were shining 
like dark flame. AbsTaam was outside in the passage. 
He was also dressed in a dark cloak, and carried a 
bundle under it. No words were exchanged. The old 
man signed to Amine to follow him, and turned down a 
narrow passage, at the end of which was a flight of 
stairs leading downwards into a small room. 

Here Abs’laam halted, and kneeling on the floor 
appeared to be searching for something. Then 
quite suddenly a section of the stone floor shouldered 
itself up, revealing the head of another flight of steps 
which led down into the darkness. From the bundle 
which he carried Abs’laam produced a lamp, which 
he lit, and then turned to his companion. 

“ Highness,” he said, “ here is the entrance to the 
place where the Old Ones worshipped Him at the 
beginning of time. Are you still resolved to seek 
Him ? " 

The girl did not answer, but stepped forward, and 
Abs’laam began the descent, keeping in front of his 
companion. 

As they cleared the first few steps, the square of 
flooring which had lifted descended as noiselessly 
as it had risen, and they were in darkness except for 
the dim light of the lamp that the old man carried. 
The steps led ever downward, until at last the pair 


BLACK MAGIC 


255 


could feel that they had arrived far below the level 
of the rock, but still the stairs went on, and it seemed 
that they would never stop. At last, however, they 
ceased in front of a roughly-hewn archway. 

AbsTaam turned to the girl. 

“ This is His temple,” he said. “ In the beginning of 
time, before Allah created man as he is now, here the 
Old Ones worshipped and sacrificed to Him. This 
place is very old — as old as the world itself — and it is 
not good to linger here, but I must speak before we 
enter His shrine. Remember that it is you who must 
call Him, for it is you who need His help. I will make 
the circle of Protection against the Seven Ones who 
guard his shrine. Whatever you see, whatever you 
hear, do not leave the circle. To do so is death to 
the body and the soul 1 ” 

He went under the archway and Amine followed him 
in silence. 

The atmosphere of the passage was oppressive. 
Although a suspicion of coldness was in the dank air, 
it was a cold which lent no life to it, but rather de- 
vitalised it. The place felt as if it were dead itself 
and belonged to the dead, and that it resented the 
presence of living beings. 

The light of the lamp fell on the walls, and Amine 
could see that they were covered with strange and 
monstrous sculptures, of great animals, and figures 
which seemed human, and yet were not human. For 
the first time that night she trembled. The air of the 
place, and the knowledge of the purpose for which she 
had come, caused her to feel fear for almost the first 
time in her life. 

Then another light beside that of the lamp appeared 
in front of them — a cold bluish light. The vaulted 


256 LOST SHEEP 


passage came to an end, and they emerged from it into 
an open space. 

The place was a chamber, and, in comparison with 
the immense scale on which the House of the Stones 
was built, was small and low-browed, and was not so 
much built as carved bodily out of the solid rock. The 
walls were smoothed away, and were covered with the 
same kind of sculptures as were the walls of the passage 
through which the pair had just come. At one end 
of the cave was a figure, also carved from the rock. 
It was roughly human, and unmistakably male in 
outline, but below the heavy brow, where the face 
should have been, were no signs of features. Instead of 
being carved to represent a face, the rock was smoothed 
away from where the eyes should have been to the 
chin. Over the forehead a globe of light burned 
steadily, throwing out the bluish light that lit the 
chamber, and which turned Abs’laam’s brown features 
to a livid green, and Amine’s to a corpse-like white. 

Abs’laam spoke in a whisper. 

“ It is the image of Him,” he murmured. “ None 
has ever seen his face, and so it is left blank. Now 
listen. I go to make the circle. Then I will make the 
Protection against the Seven and then — if you are 
fixed in your will — you must call on Him. We must 
hasten. The Seven are never far from his image, and 
this place is full of the strong magic of those who have 
built it ! ” 

He placed the heavy bundle which he carried on the 
floor and opened it. From it he took five peculiarly 
shaped lamps, and two or three stoppered vessels. 
Then he took out two white cocks, evidently, from 
the convulsive movements of their wings, living, 
but with their beaks and legs tied. Last of all, from 


BLACK MAGIC 


257 


the breast of his robe, he produced a roughly-shaped 
stone knife. 

Going into the middle of the chamber he traced this 
figure 



on the floor, and muttering some words lit the lamps, 
one of which he placed at each of the five points. 
Then opening the stoppered vessels, he took their 
contents and scattered them on the ground so as to 
form a circle joining the lamps. This accomplished, 
he signed to Amine to place herself inside the circle, 
in the centre of the figure, and when she had done so 
followed her. 

Still muttering strange words, he swept his open 
hand, palm downwards, around the circumference 
of the circle. As he did so, the circle on the ground 
seemed to spring into light under the sweep of his 
hand, and rise some feet into the air, completely 
surrounding the two with a barrier of reddish light. 
As the light of the circle flamed into being, that on 
the brow of the image dwindled and shrunk until it 
was no more than a pin-point of blue light, and 

R 


258 LOST SHEEP 


simultaneously seven lights of the same colour made 
their appearance outside the circle, remaining there 
as if keeping guard. Quiet and still they hung, but 
both the people within the circle could feel that from 
each of them emanated an intense and potent 
malignancy, 

Abs’laam spoke one sentence only. “ The Seven 
come/’ he said. Then he rose to his feet, raised his 
hands and began to chant. The words were Arabic — 
not the bastard language of Algeria and Morocco, 
but the pure Arabic of Yemen — and were something 
as follows : 

“ Seven are they, seven are they I 
In the channel of the deep, seven are they ! 

In the radiance of heaven, seven are they ! 

In the palace of the channel of the deep, grew they up, 
Female they are not, male they are not. 

In the midst of the deep are their paths. 

Wife they have not, son they have not 
Ruth or mercy know they not 
Prayer of supplication know they not, 

The cavern of the mountain they enter, 

Unto Allah are they hostile, 

The throne wardens of That Other are they, 

Baleful are they. Baleful are they ! 

Seven are they, seven are they, twice seven again are 
they ! 

Spirit of the Heaven, remember it 1 
Spirit of the earth, remember it ! ” 

As he ceased, Abs’laam raised his hands to the roof, 
and stood upright, waiting. Then little by little the 
seven flames drew away and waned until the vault was 
only lit by the light from the circle. 

The old man turned to the girl, and the sweat was 
running down his face. 

“ They have gone/' he said, “ now it is for you to call 


BLACK MAGIC 


259 


Him — -if you dare; but first we must both make 
libations to Him.” 

He handed one of the white fowls to the girl, and 
then gave her the stone knife. Amine took it and 
holding the bird in her left hand, with a strong move- 
ment of her wrist, decapitated it. As the hot blood 
splashed on the floor inside the circle it seemed as if the 
light on the brow of the great image flared up for a 
moment and sank again. 

Then Abs’laam, taking the knife from the girl, did 
the same with the other fowl, and again the light rose 
and fell. 

“ Now is the time to call on Him,” whispered the old 
man, “now while the blood is still warm — you know 
the words — call on Him and show no fear I ” 

He crouched down in the middle of the circle and 
covered his face with his robe, as the girl stood up with 
her arms outstretched facing the image. Then she 
began to speak in a slow and measured voice, again 
using pure Arabic. 

“ I invoke Thee who art in the empty wind,” ran 
the words, “ terrible, invisible, all potent, god of gods, 
bringer of destruction, and bringer of desolation, thou 
who hast been named the breaker in pieces of all 
things and the unconquered one. I invoke thee, oh, 
mighty one, I perform thy rites, seeing that I invoke 
thee through thy name which thou canst not refuse to 
hear ! ” Here the girl bowed herself to the ground and 
whispered a Name, and as she did so the vault seemed 
to heave, as if the rock had drawn a deep breath. Then 
she stood up again and presumed, “ Come to me, oh. 
great one, and go forward before me, and show me the 
way to what I desire. Therefore perform I these 
rites ! ” 


260 LOST SHEEP 


She ceased and the vault was very still. Then slowly 
the light descended from the brow of the image, and 
hung in the air just outside the radius of the circle. 
As it did so the light from the circle seemed to die 
away, leaving the place almost in darkness, save for 
that cold, blue light. For an instant it seemed to 
the eyes of the watchers inside the circle that under 
the light stood a Form, but as they strained their eyes 
it was gone, although a presence of some kind there 
was — a presence which was not so much an evil one 
as Evil itself. 

Then a voice spoke, apparently from just outside the 
circle. “ Follow the light,” it said, and that was all. 

The light retreated, and went back to its original 
position, while the vault was illuminated by the same 
cold, blue light as it had been when the two entered it. 

Amine turned to her companion, who was still 
covered with his cloak. 

“ Follow the light ? ” she said. 

The old man uncovered his head and pointed to- 
wards the passage through which they had entered. 
Half-way through it, and apparently suspended in the 
empty air, hung a light, of the same bluish colour as 
the other. 

“ It is the light that He sends for a guide,” said he, 
“ follow that. All is safe now.” 

They left the circle, and as they did so its glow died 
down to nothingness. All that was left of the cere- 
mony which had taken place was a circle of brownish- 
red powder on the floor of the vault, inside it the 
headless bodies of the two fowls, and a pool of blood. 

They turned to the entrance, Amine in advance, and 
as they did so the light moved forward before them. 
It led up the passage, and then turned to the right, 


BLACK MAGIC 


261 


halting for a moment before a flight of stairs in the wall, 
which it slowly ascended, Amine and her companion 
following it. At last it stopped before a blank wall, 
and remained poised over a stone carved in rude spirals. 

Amine turned to Abs’laam. 

“ What now ? ” she said. 

The old man went forward and pressed with his 
hands on the stone, the light all the time burning clear 
and steady just over his head. Amine held the lamp, 
which had been relit after leaving the vault. 

Then quite suddenly a section of the wall seemed to 
give way, leaving a dark opening, which the light from 
the lamp only half penetrated. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


IN THE WADY-ER-ROUMI 

A S the door closed, shutting out the last rays 
of light from the torches, Jim and Morsec 
instinctively groped for each other. It 
is strange what a daunting effect utter darkness 
has on men, even the boldest. The man who will 
face any danger, as long as he can see it, feels the need 
of the companionship of his own kind in the darkness, 
and the sense of that companionship is increased by 
actual physical contact. Since the days when our 
remote ancestors huddled together in the tree tops 
and peered, trembling, into the black void below them, 
the Fear of the Dark has lasted, and will last until 
man reaches a higher stage of development than he 
has up to the present. Neither Jim nor Morsec was 
frightened, but somehow the knowledge that there was 
some one friendly within arm’s length brought satis- 
faction to both. Then Morsec spoke. 

“ Mon Dieu,” he said, “ we are properly in the soup 
this time I And it looks as if it were going to be 
worse for us to-morrow. Did you see that poor devil’s 
face — Faugh I ” and he made a noise of disgust in his 
throat. “ What did that man say to you ? He didn’t 
look amiable, mon ami — no, hardly amiable 1 ”, 

Jim did not see any reason to enlighten his comrade 
as to the reason of Hassan Ali’s want of geniality. 

262 


IN THE WADY-ER-ROUMI 263 


“ He remarked that if we didn’t do as the old devil 
upstairs wanted us to that we would be the same as the 
man we saw by this time to-morrow,” he said. “ He 
also promised himself the pleasure of coming to see us. 
Nasty mind he seems to have.” 

Silence followed for a space, and then Morsec said 
gruffly : 

“You know, Lingard, it is quite another pair of 
sleeves, your case and mine. I am a Frenchman, but 
you — well, you are ” 

“ A Legionary,” returned Jim. “ Look here, don’t 
get on that strain or we shall quarrel, and it’s too dark 
to do that comfortably.” 

Morsec squeezed his arm. 

“ Obstinate English pig,” he said, but there was no 
anger in the words. “ Well, then, since neither of us 
will do as they want us to, we’d better think out what 
we are going to do for ourselves. Listen, mon ami. 
When they come for us to-morrow, they open the door, 
n’est-ce pas ? Very well then. The inside of this place is 
as black as a wolf’s throat, as you see, or rather don’t 
see. Now we shall be in the dark and they will have 
torches, and will show up against the light. They can’t 
see us. They will make a perfect target — impossible to 
miss at a close range, even with a short-barrelled pistol. 
If I dropped two of them, and that ought to be easy 
enough, we could grab their arms, perhaps their rifles 
and bandoliers if we have any luck, but in any case their 
swords, and voild ! If we once get arms into our 
hands, well, it will not be our fault if they take us 
again — alive, at least. How does the scheme strike 
you ? ” 

“ All right as far as it goes,” returned Jim, “ but can 
you make certain of hitting them ? I mean make 


264 LOST SHEEP 


certain of dropping your men dead. An Arbi will make 
nothing of the bullets that pistol of yours carries unless 
he takes it in the head or heart, and if we want their 
arms we shall have to be pretty quick in getting 
them before their friends take a hand in the game.” 

“ I think so,” replied Morsec. “ I am fairly useful 
with a pistol. Sacre sang, man, look at the door — 
here they come ! ” He whipped the Browning from the 
breast of his tunic and crouched down close to the 
floor so as to get the first man who entered well against 
the light for a shot. 

Certainly a door was opening, but to Jim’s senses, 
even confused as they were by the darkness, it seemed 
to be at the opposite side of the room to that from which 
they had entered. Wider and wider a space in the wall 
opened, until it left an oblong through which the light 
streamed, cutting a swathe out of the darkness. In the 
middle of the light space were two figures, and Morsec 
brought his pistol down with a steady aim until it 
pointed squarely at the breast of the foremost. Then 
Jim seized his arm. 

“ Don’t fire,” he said. “ It’s all right — I know the 
lady ! ” 

The two figures advanced swiftly into the room. 
The foremost one was the girl Amine, and the other was 
a small, bent, old man. 

Amine went straight up to Jim. 

“You must come with me now ,” she said, “ at once, 
if you would ever see the day again. No ” — as Jim 
strove to speak — “ there is no time for questions. 
Follow me now — you and your comrade.” She led 
Jim through the open door, and Morsec followed, the 
old man bringing up the rear. 

Outside was a narrow passage, only lit by the lamp 


IN THE WADY-ER-ROUMI 


265 


which Amine carried, and further down by a small globe 
of bluish light which almost immediately moved away 
as if carried by somebody. Amine took the lead of the 
party and followed it. 

Jim could never form a coherent mental picture of 
that journey. Through passages, down narrow stair- 
ways, once through a great open space of which the 
sides and walls were lost in darkness and in which the 
sound of their footsteps seemed swallowed up in empty 
space, and again through passages so low that they had 
to bend almost double, the light led them. All the 
time there was no sign of any living thing except them- 
selves, and no sound except their own breathing and 
their own footsteps. The girl in front moved very 
swiftly, but fast as she went the blue light kept ever 
the same distance in front, and moved apparently at the 
same pace. 

The whole scene reminded Jim of a book which he 
had seen as a boy in his uncle’s house — the Dore 
edition of Dante’s “Inferno.” Colonel Lingard had 
not been a person who encouraged light literature 
in his house, and who looked on all poetry except 
hymns as being immoral, but the title of the book, 
and the illustrations, had struck him as capable of 
pointing a moral, and he had relaxed his usual rule 
in its favour. 

Jim remembered the dim light and the towering walls 
fading away into darkness, and the progress of himself 
and his companions reminded him of that of Dante and 
his guide. The only thing lacking to complete the 
likeness was the presence of the damned souls and 
demons, and it seemed if at any moment one or the 
other might quite conceivably make their appearance 
out of the shadows. 


266 LOST SHEEP 


At last, however, the stone flags underfoot gave 
place to loose sand, ‘^and the walls, in place of 
squared stones, were^ of rough rock. |Since they 
had entered the archway that led into the House 
of the Stones there had been a curious dead quality 
in the air, which was missing now, and once or 
twice Jim thought he felt a suggestion of wind. It 
was more like a ghost of a breeze which had entered 
the labyrinth long ago, and had died there, still 
haunting the place, than a wind, but still it was moving 
air, and a comfort to feel on the face. Then straight 
in front of them, and beyond the guiding light, appeared 
another light, a pin-point only it seemed, but distinctly 
light, and the breeze grew stronger and the air fresher. 
The walls seemed to fall away a little from each side, 
and above them Jim could see the Algerian sky and 
the stars. 

Jim Lingard was not a sentimental man, nor one with 
any great sense of the beauties of nature, but he felt 
his eyes tingle and a lump in his throat at the sight. 
Life is sweet to a young man, and Jim had made up his 
mind that evening that he had finished with it for good 
and all. 

Morsec was also moved. “ Well, at least we are 
out of that heap of stones,” he whispered to Jim. 
“ I never thought to smell the fresh air again, did 
you ? ” 

The girl Amine heard him and, turning, placed her 
hand on her lips for silence. Then she motioned the 
others to remain where they were, and went forward 
by herself, seemingly to reconnoitre. 

When she was out of earshot Morsec turned to 
Jim again. 

“I say,” he remarked, in a casual tone, “ the young 


IN THE WADY-ER-ROUMI 


267 


lady has got us out, but — what’s going to happen to 
her ? The old gentleman, her father, will scarcely be 
pleased with her, I imagine, and didn’t she say some- 
thing to us about being practically fiancee to some one. 
The gentleman who took such a gloomy view of our 
immediate future, I fancy ? ” 

Jim kicked a piece of loose stone irritably. 

“ I don’t know,” he replied. “ As you say, she has 
got us out, and if we pull through — which is doubtful — 
we must look after her.” 

Morsec smiled. 

“ I don’t fancy the lady will want much looking 
after, mon cher ,” he observed. “A more capable 
young person I never remember meeting ! The ques- 
tion is if — and I admit there is a big if — we get out of 
this what are you going to do with her. She doesn’t 
seem exactly the sort of girl to support life on the pay 
of an adjutant I ” and he grinned. 

Jim snarled. 

“Who the devil said she could?” he returned. 
“ Besides she doesn’t want to ” 

“ Oh no, of course not,” returned Morsec. “It was 
my beaux yeux that made her take the trouble to 
guide us through the inside of the earth here. But 
seriously, mon cher — no, don’t be angry, I was 
only joking — what on earth are we going to do 
with her ? ” 

Jim did not answer. In point of fact there didn’t 
seem to be any very obvious answer. If they ever got 
away there was no manner of doubt that it was simply 
and solely owing to the girl, and there was equally no 
manner of doubt that she had done what she did solely 
because of him — Jim Lingard. 

Now Jim’s feelings towards the girl were very mixed. 


268 LOST SHEEP 


He admired her splendid beauty, as no man could help 
doing, but with his admiration he carried a very whole- 
some respect which was almost fear of her. He felt 
vaguely that she had command of powers of which he 
knew nothing, and whose nature he could not under- 
stand; but what he could understand very plainly, 
was the complications which were likely to ensue 
if he brought her back to the Legion with him — always 
supposing that he ever arrived there. 

However, his duty for the present was clear. The 
girl had saved his life, and therefore had a claim on it. 
It was for her to say what she wanted of him, and 
gratitude and chivalry both ordained that he should 
give it to her. After all she was no native, but a white 
woman, and must be treated as one. 

This train of thought was interrupted by the return 
of the girl. 

“ We must hasten,” she said, “ already it is near the 
dawn, and when Hassan Ali discovers that you are gone 
he will pursue. He was responsible for you, and, if my 
father finds that you have escaped, it will not be good 
for those who let you go ! For that reason I think 
that Hassan Ah will not bring many men with him. 
If he did it would come to my father’s ears, which is 
what he will want to avoid — but let us go forward.” 
She led the way down the gully and the others followed 
her as they had done before. 

Morsec was walking behind Jim and he bent forward, 
speaking in a low voice. 

“ It seems to me,” he said, “ that we are nearly in as 
bad a hole as ever. If those gentlemen do pursue us we 
haven’t got a weapon among us, except my pistol, and 
anyhow, supposing we ever do get out of this infernal 
heap of stones, how are we going to get across the 


IN THE WADY-ER-ROUMI 


269 


desert ? Even if my knee was all right we couldn't 
walk." 

Jim had almost forgotten the injury to Morsec’s 
knee. As a matter of fact, though the lieutenant had 
never uttered a word of complaint, he was limping 
badly, and was evidently in pain. 

“No use crossing bridges until we come to them," he 
said. “ Something is sure to turn up." 

He spoke cheerfully, but in his mind he felt anything 
but cheerful. Morsec did not answer, and the journey 
continued in silence. 

The air was fresher now, and the summits of the rocks 
around them began to take a more distinct shape. It 
was evidently close to daybreak. Then the gully 
which they were traversing turned into a wider one, and 
Amine halted. 

“ We must keep along this," she said. “ I know of a 
place further on where there is water, and where we can 
lie hidden. But we must hasten. By this time Hassan 
Ali will have discovered your escape, and will search 
for you." 

For half a mile or so she led the way, and then the 
old man, AbsTaam, plucked Jim by the sleeve. 

“ I hear camels," he said anxiously. 

Jim listened, and, although he strained his ears, 
could hear nothing at first ; but after a moment or two 
he became conscious of a regular pad-pad behind him. 

He turned to Morsec. 

“They’re after us," he said shortly, and then ran 
forward, and told Amine. 

The girl listened. 

“Yes," she said, “ Hassan Ali has lost no time. 
But there are not many of them — not more than two or 
three by the sound — but hasten." 


270 LOST SHEEP 


She led the way, almost running, and Jim going 
back to Morsec, passed the latter’s arm round his neck, 
and hurried him forward. The dull pad of the camels’ 
feet was closer now — and coming still closer every 
minute. 

Then Amine stopped at the entrance of a narrow 
gully, intersecting the one down which they were 
travelling. 

“In here,” she said, “quick; they are close on us 
now l ” 

She turned and flitted up the narrow way, looking like 
a ghost in the dim light, and the others followed her. 

But their pursuers had been closer than they had 
reckoned on. Hardly had they gone fifty yards up the 
narrow track when there was a shout behind them, 
which other voices took up. 

Jim turned and looked behind. Crowded together 
outside the mouth of the gully were four men on camels, 
and, as the foremost saw Jim, he waved his hand and 
shouted again. “ Allah akbar Senussi l ” rung the 
cry, and Jim knew they were tracked down. 

Morsec took his arm from Jim’s shoulder and drew 
his pistol. 

“ Better stay and finish it here,” he said grimly. 
“ Well, we have had a run for our money, but I’m afraid 
it’s macache for us now.” 

Jim looked around. There was absolutely nothing 
which could be used as a weapon, nob even a loose 
stone. Then with the Englishman’s instinct he closed 
his fists and stepped up beside his comrade. 

But the girl Amine seized him by the arm. 

“Not yet,” she said, “ let us see what happens s . 
They will not follow us in here" and she half pulled, 
half pushed, Jim with her. 


IN THE WADY-ER-ROUMI 


271 


He followed rather reluctantly. As far as he could 
see the game was up, and he did not see the use of pro- 
longing it. Better die now while his blood was hot 
than be captured later on, when weak from starvation 
and thirst, to be brought back to the House of Stones 
for death or worse. Still the force of the girl’s per- 
sonality won its way, and he followed her obediently. 

They turned a corner of the gully and Amine pointed 
to the mouth of a cave, about ten feet up in the rock 
wall, to which a slip of the cliff had made a rough 
pathway. 

“ In here,” she said, and began the ascent, the others 
following her still. She was in every sense the leader of 
the party. Both the prisoners had given up hope, 
and would have been glad to get their nightmare flight 
over and done with, if they could have made certain of 
killing a few of their enemies first. Abs’laam from 
first to last had followed his mistress with the un- 
swerving devotion of a faithful dog, but the girl herself, 
since the beginning of that wild journey, had neither 
stopped nor wavered. 

Now she led the way into the cave which she had 
pointed out. She was breathing hard from her exertions, 
but was otherwise cool and collected. 

“ We are safe for a time,” she said. “ They will 
never follow us in here, and at least we shall not be 
thirsty.” She pointed to the back of the cave, where 
the sound of running wat6r could be heard. “Now 
let us rest ; we shall want all our strength before long.” 

She seated herself on the sandy floor of the cave, and 
the others followed her example. 


CHAPTER XXV 


WHAT JIM LINGARD FOUND IN THE CAVE 

M ORSEC lay down beside Jim and caressed his 
injured knee. 

“ This is all very well,” he observed, “but 
as I said, I don’t see that we are very much better 
off than we were before. We have whole skins, and 
that is about all there is to be said. In a few minutes — 
or a few hours — along will come those Arabs, et puis, 
macache.” 

“ She says,” Jim returned, “ that they won’t come in 
here. But, even if they don’t, I can’t see what difference 
it is going to make. We can’t stay here for ever.” 

“ Well, she seems to be very much the leader,” said 
Morsec. “ Suppose you ask her what she thinks of 
doing. I don’t like to. Somehow the lady doesn’t 
seem to have taken a fancy to me. She hasn’t addressed 
a solitary word to me since I had the pleasure of meeting 
her. Perhaps it’s because she hasn’t been properly 
introduced, but anyhow I don’t feel inclined to break 
the ice.” 

Jim rose and went over to the girl. 

“ We are safe so far, thanks to you,” he said, “ but 
can you tell me what is likely to happen, or if Hassan 
Ali and his men are likely to attack us ? Because, if 
they do, I am afraid we are in a very poor shape to 
meet them 1 ” 


272 


WHAT JIM LINGARD FOUND 


273 


Amine put her hand on his arm. 

“ Jeem,” she said, “ I do not know what is going to 
happen. But they will not attack us here. If Hassan 
Ah wants to do so, he will have to come by himself. 
None of my father’s men will enter the Wady-er- 
Roumi.” 1 

“ Why not ? ” asked Jim. 

“ Because,” replied the girl, “ they fear El Roumi. 
Once, hundreds of years ago, there was war between 
the Sultan Salah-ud-din 2 and the Franks. There 
was a company of Franks who became separated 
from their harka and wandered in to the Ahagger, 
where they were beset by the men of the desert. All 
of them fell under the arrows and lances of the Faithful 
except one, their malek. 3 He was a giant in stature, 
and he hewed his way through his foes, until he 
came to the place where we are now. Five of the 
bravest of the sons of the desert followed him, the 
others dared not, for they said that he was possessed 
of a devil. The five men followed the Roumi , but no 
man ever saw them or him again. But men say that 
the great Roumi still walks the gully, and that some- 
times one can hear the clash of steel and the cries of 
dying men. No Arab will enter the place.” 

“ But,” said Jim, “ even if they do not enter, they 
have only to wait outside until we die of hunger, and I 
think the longer we stay here the worse plight we shall 
be in. Hassan Ali may send for more men ! ” 

“ I do not think so,” returned the girl ; “ he dare not 
let my father know that you have escaped. But let me 
think — if we stay here it means death for all of us.” 

She placed her chin on her hands, and Jim rose. He 

1 Gully of the White Man. 3 Saladin. 

3 Leader. 

s 


274 . LOST SHEEP 


was thirsty, and went to the back of the cave, where 
there was the sound of running water. Out of the rock 
a little spring of clear water rose, and ran merrily for a 
few yards over the rock before it lost itself in the sand. 
Jim bent over and drank deeply, then straightened 
himself and wiped his mouth. As he did so, in the 
semi-darkness of the cave he thought he noticed a 
darker shadow on the back of the wall. He approached 
it with no very definite idea, and found that it was 
the opening to another cave, a narrow passage 
which after some paces widened out, forming another 
chamber. With some idea that there might be a 
series of caves, which perhaps might lead to some 
way of escape, Jim went back to the others quietly, 
and taking the lamp that Amine had carried, with 
some difficulty relit it with the flint and steel which so 
many French soldiers carry, as being cheaper and 
almost as efficient as the matches supplied by a pater- 
nal government. Then he went back to the entrance 
of the second cave and entered it. 

He had hardly taken two steps, however, when he 
stumbled over something, and almost fell full length. 
He lowered the lamp and looked. To his astonish- 
ment it was two human figures, or rather what had been 
two human figures, lying on the top of each other. 
They were both covered with white robes, which fell to 
dust as Jim touched them, on their heads they wore 
round steel caps, which were still clean and bright, and 
in the skeleton hands were vicious, curved blades. 
One of the bodies had the skull neatly split in two, while 
that of the other lay some paces away, grinning sar- 
donically at the body to which it had once belonged. 

Jim gave an oath of astonishment, and continued his 
way. A few paces further on lay another body, 


WHAT JIM LINGARD FOUND 


275 


and as the passage widened he saw three more. 
Two of them were the same as the figures in the 
passage, but the third was that of a great man clad in 
chain-mail, and with a square-topped helmet on his 
head. One of the bodies was lying in a corner of a cave 
as if flung there, but the figure in chain-mail and the 
remaining one were close together. 

Jim examined them carefully. Through the skele- 
ton ribs of the white-clad figure was driven a great 
sword, so far that the cross-hilt almost touched the 
breast-bone. In the hand of the transfixed figure was a 
curved sword, which had bitten deep through the neck 
armour of the other, and was firmly wedged in the 
collar bone. 

Jim reconstructed the tragedy mentally. 

The solitary Crusader, after having cut his way 
through his enemies, had taken refuge in the inner cave, 
and thither the five men who had been brave enough 
to pursue had followed him. Three of them he had 
cut down in the passage way, but two of them had 
forced their way into the inner chamber. One of them 
had evidently, as could be seen by closer examination, 
met a sweep of the great sword which had almost 
divided his body, and the other had taken the point. 
Then, before it could be withdrawn, the last man had 
evidently forced himself up against the blade to deliver 
a blow with his last strength, which had slain the slayer, 
and there in the darkness the six men had lain for seven 
hundred years. 

Jim went back to the mouth of the passage leading 
to the outer cave and called softly to Morsec. The 
latter rose and limped across the cave. Jim beckoned 
to him to enter, and raised the lamp. Morsec looked, 
and then whistled thoughtfully. 


276 LOST SHEEP 


“ We are not the first to have been here then,” he 
said. “ Pardieu, though, he fought well, that parois- 
sien ! Five he got before they got him ! Well, 
may we go as well when our turn comes.” That was 
the epitaph of the unknown Crusader, and, if he heard 
it, he may have thought it no bad one. 

Suddenly Morsec seemed struck by a thought. 

“ Tiens ! ” he said. “ I have it. See, mon ami , just 
exactly what we wanted,” and as he spoke he stooped 
and loosed one of the swords from the skeleton hand 
that grasped it. 

“ Whatever happens now,” he went on, “ we can 
make a fight of it. You had better help yourself as 
well; these gentlemen won’t require them any more ! ” 

Jim went over to where the remains of the Crusader 
and his enemy lay, and with some difficulty released the 
great sword from the grip of its owner. It was a mur- 
derous weapon, double-edged, and nearly a hand’s 
breadth wide under the hilts, and almost four feet long 
in the blade. Notwithstanding its size it was so per- 
fectly balanced that it seemed almost light in the hand, 
and the edges were as sharp as they had been when its 
owner drew it for his last fight. 

Jim tried the balance of it, and, when he swung it 
hissing, through the air, it seemed as if the sword sang 
for joy at the prospect of action. 

“ I think I’ll keep this,” he said. “ That thing 
you’ve got there seems a bit too fragile to do very much 
with, but I pity anyone who gets in the way of this ! ” 

Morsec set the point of the weapon he had taken 
in the ground, and pressed strongly on the hilt. The 
blade bent into a complete circle, and as he removed 
the pressure sprung back again into position. 

“ Damascus steel,” he observed calmly, “ the sort 


WHAT JIM LINGARD FOUND 277 


they used to make. Feel the edge, that will go through 
anything, bone or flesh.” 

Jim felt the edge with his thumb and almost drew 
blood. It was as sharp as a razor. 

“ Sharp enough for anything,” he said. “ Still I 
prefer this. And now — what are we going to do ? 
The longer we stay here the worse off we are. I think 
we had better make a sortie and try our luck ! ” 

The other assented. 

“I think so too,” he said; “but we had better 
wait a little. Dusk would be the best time. If we 
get through we shall have to get on before the others 
find out what has happened. Always supposing 
we do have luck, we shall have to take the Arbis' 
camels, and personally I’m not anxious for a ride over 
the desert under the sun. Better wait until evening.” 

The advice was sound from all points of view. If the 
forlorn hope succeeded, the first and most obvious thing 
for the fugitives to do was to place as long a distance as 
possible between themselves and the Senussi, and a 
journey over the desert was likely to be very much more 
endurable by night than by day. Of course there was 
always the chance that Hassan Ali had sent back to the 
House of Stones for reinforcements, but all things 
considered Jim thought that this was unlikely. If, as 
Amine said, her father was certain to punish any 
dereliction of duty with a heavy hand, Hassan Ali 
would hardly call attention to the escape of the 
prisoners, especially as he had them under his hand, 
but would be much more likely to sit down and wait. 
No, a sortie was the only course, and dusk was the best 
time to try it. 

The two men returned to the outer cave, and Jim 
told Amine in a few words what they had seen and what 


278 LOST SHEEP 


they had made up their minds to do. She seemed 
satisfied. 

“ You are safe from steel and lead/' she said, “ and 
as to him” indicating Morsec, “ it does not matter. 
Yes, what you say is best.” 

The hours dragged slowly on, and both Jim and 
Morsec dozed. Amine sat quite still without uttering 
a word, and old Abs'laam sat huddled up in his haik , 
with no sign of life about him except the occasional 
flash of his eyes under his hood. 

As Jim dozed he had a strange dream, or what he 
thought was a dream. It seemed to him that he heard 
footsteps at the back of the cave, and as he turned he 
saw a tall figure emerging from the narrow passage 
which led to the inner chamber — the figure of the dead 
man whose sword he had taken. The mail-clad figure 
came close to him and spoke. “I, Ralph de Barham, 
give you my sword,” he thought it said. “ When the 
time comes use it ! In return lay my bones fair and 
straight, that I may sleep like a gentleman among these 
dogs of Saracens.” 

Then Jim woke from a thrust of Morsec’s elbow. 

“ Time to start,” he said, “ are you ready ? ” 

“In a moment,” returned Jim. 

He slipped into the inner cave and laid the mail- 
clad figure of the Crusader on its back with the hands 
crossed on the breast, and then turned to go, leaving 
him to his last sleep among his dead enemies. 

When he returned Morsec looked at him. 

“ Anything special doing ? ” he inquired. 

Jim laughed a little shamefacedly. 

“No,” he answered, “ only I thought that as our 
friend inside had given me his sword, the least I could 
do was to lay him out decently. I’m ready now.” 


WHAT JIM LINGARD FOUND 279 


Both men stepped to the mouth of the cave, and then 
Amine stopped Jim. 

“ I do not know,” she said, “ but I think that some- 
thing is going to happen. If you escape, you will 
not forget me?” 

Jim passed his arm round her. “ If I escape you are 
coming with me,” he replied; “ and if not ” 

The girl smiled a little. 

“ I hope so,” she said, “ but I have had thoughts, 
and perhaps — but promise you will not forget me? ” 

Jim felt intensely uncomfortable. This was very 
unlike the self-reliant Amine that he had known so 
far. 

“ I will never forget you,” he said, “ but you and — 
your — er — servant had better stay here ; there is no 
need for you to come with us. If we win through, we 
can come back for you, and if not you will be much 
safer here.” 

The girl looked at him. “No,” she said, “ where you 
go, I go,” and with a parting pressure on his arm she 
placed herself behind him. 

Jim placed himself on Morsec’s left hand. His heart 
was beating like a trip-hammer, but otherwise he felt 
perfectly cool — exceptionally cool, he thought — as he 
found himself noticing a red outcrop in the rock with 
interest. 

Jim Lingard had come through some trying times, and 
had had some narrow escapes since he had left Douargala 
with his company, but now he felt that he really was, 
as he put it to himself, “ up against it.” What earthly 
chance had two men, one half crippled, and both weak 
from lack of food, against four Arabs ? He wondered 
if the Arabs had guns. There was just a chance that 
they might not have, that is, if what Amine had said 


280 LOST SHEEP 


as to Hassan Ali not wishing to arrest attention was 
right. A gun-shot in the gullies of the Ahagger would 
echo and re-echo, and would inevitably alarm the 
garrison. In any case their chance against four men 
was slender enough, but if the four had fire-arms it was 
hopeless. Just then Morsec spoke. 

“ Look here,” he said, “ can you go forward and 

reconnoitre ? I would do it myself but ” and he 

pointed to his injured knee. “ It is fairly dark now, and 
if you could get to the mouth of this place and see what 
the Arbis are doing — eh ? ” 

Jim nodded silently and went forward. As Morsec 
said, it was getting very dark in the gullies and cor- 
respondingly difficult to pick out objects. He flung 
off the white haik, which he found an impediment to 
his movements, and keeping as much as possible in the 
shadow of the rocks moved forward until he reached 
the mouth of the gully. Here he dropped full length 
on the sand, in the shadow of the rock, and looked 
cautiously out. At first he could make out no distinct 
forms in the jumble of rock shapes, but presently, 
standing close to the mouth of the gully, he made out 
a figure. It was that of an Arab armed with a spear. 
A little further away were other forms which looked 
like fantastically-shaped rocks, but which closer 
scrutiny enabled him to see were camels, each with a 
man sitting beside it. So, the siege had not been 
raised. Jim looked long and carefully. The sentry 
at the mouth of the gully certainly had no rifle, and 
therefore it was possible that Hassan Ali had forbidden 
his men to bring fire-arms. So far, so good. 

Jim took one more long look at the Arabs so as to 
fix their positions in his memory — he knew that an 
accurate knowledge of where each of their enemies 


WHAT JIM LINGARD FOUND 


281 


were would be an enormous help to himself and his 
comrade in a quick rush — and then crawling back as 
quietly as he had come, made his report to Morsec, 
who listened attentively. 

“ Four of them,” he said, “ well, it might be worse — 
a lot worse. Well, what do you propose ? ” 

“ Rush them,” replied Jim, “ it’s the only chance 
we have. First get the sentry out of the way, and then 
go for the others as hard as we can.” 

“ Yes,” said Morsec, “ and the sentry — how are you 
going to deal with him ? Rush him as well ? ” 

Jim considered. “ Look here,” he said at last, “ I 
have a plan. I remember once a comrade of mine who 
had served in India told me that, in one of our little 
wars there, night after night they had the sentry 
on one particular spot cut up. At last they took a 
man from a native regiment who came from that part 
of the country and understood his friends’ little ways. 
In the morning they found that he had bagged the man 
who had killed the other sentries. The soldier ex- 
plained how it was done. The tribesman would creep 
out and toss a stone or handful of pebbles over the 
sentry’s head so as to fall and make a noise behind him, 
and when the sentry turned his head he would rush 
him. I’m going to try the trick. It seems a rotten 
thing to do — to kill a man like that — but it’s no time 
for studying that sort of thing : it’s us or them. No,” 
as Morsec interrupted, “ I’m going to do it. You 
can’t move quickly enough with your bad leg. Then after 
I have cut down the sentry, what you have to do is to 
back me up as hard as ever you can in a rush on the 
others before they can collect themselves. We ought 
to get at least one of them and that leaves us man to 
man. It’s the only thing to do. You can’t make sure 


282 LOST SHEEP 


of hitting them with that pop-gun of yours, and even 
if you could the report would probably bring the 
whole lot down on us. I’m going back to tell the other 
two to stay where they are, and then I'm going to try 
it.” 

He went back a few paces to where Amine and 
Abs’laam stood in the shadow of the cliff, and put his 
hands on the girl’s shoulders. 

“ I’m going to take my chance,” he said, “ and I 
want to tell you before I go how grateful, how very 
grateful I am for all” and he emphasised the word, 
“ you have done for me. If I get through I will do 
my best to make up for all you have lost through me ! ” 

The girl looked into his eyes, and her lip was 
trembling. 

“ Jeem — beloved,” she said, and that was all. 

Jim pressed her to him and returned to Morsec. 
The two men exchanged a few curt words, and a 
hearty hand-grip, then Jim crept forward on his 
hands and knees, trailing the great sword beside him, 
Morsec following close behind. 

Neither of them noticed that Amine had left her 
companion and was following them closely. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


NAKED STEEL 

A S Jim approached the mouth of the gully, he 
turned his head and made a sign to Morsec to be 
ready. Then he grasped the hilt of the sword, 
and with his left hand scooped up a handful of 
loose sand. The sentry, who was not more than four 
or five paces away, was standing leaning on his lance, 
and, beyond occasionally peering up the gully, was 
apparently paying no very great attention to it. 

Just enough light remained for Jim to see him and 
the figures beyond him, still seated by their camels. 
Then he took a deep breath, and tossed the handful 
of coarse sand and small pebbles which he had picked 
up high into the air with his left hand, so that they fell 
behind the watching Arab with a slight clatter. The 
man seemed to be nervous, for he faced about with a 
start for a moment, and in that moment Jim was on 
him. Before the sentry had time to utter a sound, 
before he had time to make an attempt to guard, the 
great sword swung with the full weight of Jim’s body 
behind it, came down, almost severing one arm and 
shoulder from the trunk. Then with a wrench Jim 
tore the weapon free, and, leaving the dying man, 
charged down on the other three men at the top of his 
speed followed by Morsec. 

As he charged on them, the Arabs leaped to their 

283 


284 LOST SHEEP 


feet. The foremost who, even in the dim light, Jim 
could see was Hassan Ali, lifted his spear, and with a 
swift motion sent it flying straight at Jim's throat. 
Jim could almost have sworn that it was coming straight 
for him, but that in some way, just before the moment 
of impact, it turned ever so little aside and sped past. 
He heard a half-choked cry from behind him, and set 
his teeth. They had got Morsec, had they ? Well, 
if they were going to get him he would take one or two 
with him, and with his sword raised he made straight 
for Hassan Ali. As he did so he heard the clash of 
steel beside him, and wondered vaguely what it was. 
Perhaps Morsec was not badly hurt after all. Then 
his attention became strictly centred on himself. 

When the flung spear missed, Hassan Ali had drawn 
his heavy, straight, Touareg sword, almost a counter- 
part of that carried by Jim, and had leaped forward to 
meet his enemy. The two met in mid-career, hacked 
savagely at each other without effect, and then sim- 
ultaneously drew back a pace. 

Jim was breathing hard, and was glad of a moment’s 
respite. He kept his eyes on his foe and held his 
sword almost upright in front of him, ready for either 
a cut or guard. 

Hassan Ali was trying to smile, but only succeeded 
in looking like a devil. The man seemed to be looking 
past Jim, and to see something there which filled him 
with rage and horror, but Jim did not dare to turn 
his head to see what it was. 

He could hear from the clash of steel and the deep 
breathing of the combatants that Morsec was fighting 
hard, then he heard a fall and a wet groan, and 
immediately the clash of steel began again. So Morsec 
had killed his man? Well, he was having more 


NAKED STEEL 


285 


than his share of fighting, considering his disabled 
knee, and it behoved Jim to get his own affair finished 
as quickly as might be to go to his comrade’s aid. 
He had not long to wait. Hassan Ali leaped in and 
slashed at his neck ; Jim parried the blow and returned 
it with interest. The heavy blades circled and crossed 
each other, sometimes throwing out showers of blue 
sparks into the semi-darkness, but so far neither of the 
combatants was wounded. 

Both men were equally matched. Hassan Ali was the 
quicker, but Jim was the stronger and had the longer 
reach, and, in the fence of the two-handed sword, 
strength and reach go far. It seemed to Jim that the 
sword which he had taken from the dead man almost 
fought of itself, as if it were sentient, and wished to 
avenge its old master on one of the race of his slayers. 
Time and again it seemed that it moved of itself to 
intercept a cunning cut from Hassan Ali, or to make 
an opening for itself. 

The whole gully was full of the sound and flicker of 
wheeling steel. Morsec and the other Arab were 
still fighting hard, but Jim only knew by the sound of 
steel that his comrade was still alive. Every other 
sense he had was concentrated on his opponent, and he 
knew that, if he took his eyes off Hassan Ali’s for 
one second, that second would send the Arab’s steel 
into his head or body. 

Clash — clash — clash went the great blades, then at 
last the old sword seemed to find a tiny opening in 
Hassan Ali’s guard and slipped through it ; and the Arab 
gave ground with the blood pouring from a gash in his 
shoulder. But his retreat was only momentary. He 
gathered himself together and sprang at Jim like a cat, 
lashing out savagely with his sword. Twice — three 


286 LOST SHEEP 


times he foiled Jim’s guard, and three times, automati- 
cally, as it seemed, the Crusader’s sword intercepted 
a blow which would have put finis to the book of Jim 
Lingard’s life. 

The foam was white on Hassan Ali’s dark moustache 
and beard, and he was breathing hard, but he never 
for one moment ceased to press Jim or to send in one 
cut after another at head or body. Then the loss of 
blood from the wound on his shoulder began to tell, 
and very gradually he began to give ground, still 
fighting every inch of the way, but now on the de- 
fensive. 

Jim was feeling the strain as well. He was not 
wounded, but he was weak from lack of food and from 
what he had gone through, and it takes a strong man 
and a well-fed one to use a heavy sword with effect for 
any length of time. 

Then as Jim jumped backwards to avoid a cut, his 
foot slipped, and Hassan Ali rushed in with his sword 
whirling. 

Jim never knew how he met that rush, but meet it he 
did. In some way the weapon he carried seemed to 
twist itself round Hassan Ali’s ; the Arab wheeled 
back with the blood pouring from his forehead, and as he 
did so the old sword seemed to swing again of its own 
volition. Jim felt a slight resistance and a jar as 
the blade shore through the bone, then Hassan Ali’s 
head seemed to leap from the shoulders, and went 
rolling over the floor of the gully, until it was brought 
to a stop by the rock wall. The body stood upright 
for a moment, with the blood spurting from the severed 
neck, before it collapsed in a heap. 

Jim leant gasping against the rock for a moment. 
At that moment he felt that if his life depended on it he 


NAKED STEEL 


287 


could do nothing else. There seemed to be a mist 
before his eyes, and he had a queer, sick feeling in the 
pit of his stomach. Then as his breath came back to 
him he remembered his companion and turned to help 
him. 

Morsec was fighting bravely at great disadvantage. 
Beside the injury to his knee he had received two sword 
cuts, one on the forehead and the other in the shoulder, 
and was losing blood rapidly. He had killed the first 
man he had attacked and was now, with his back to a 
rock, standing bravely up to the attack of the fourth 
Arab. 

Jim swung up his sword again, and moved over to 
take a hand in the game, but the Arab had had enough 
of one white man, and had no stomach to face two. He 
spat furiously at Morsec, and leaping backwards ran 
to the kneeling camels, on the back of one of which he 
scrambled. Getting it to its feet, he put the beast to its 
ungainly gallop, and disappeared, rocking and swaying 
in his saddle, up the pass, leaving the two white men in 
possession of the field. 

Morsec passed his hand over his forehead and wiped 
the blood away. 

“ Thanks, mon vieux,” he said. “You arrived just 
in time. I was about done. You finished your 
gentleman neatly. Cut his head off, didn’t you ? ” 

“ That Crusader’s sword did,” corrected Jim. “To 
tell you the truth, it seemed to take charge from the 
beginning ; but, look here, you are wounded, is it bad ? ” 

Morsec laughed weakly. 

“ A couple of scratches only,” he said, “ nothing to 
talk about,” but even as he spoke he staggered, and 
then pulled himself together. 

* ‘ We must get out of this, ’ ’ he said. 4 4 That man who 


288 LOST SHEEP 


got away will have his friends down on us in no time. 

Get the girl ” but he broke off with a gasp of 

horror, which a second later Jim echoed. 

Lying just outside the mouth of the Wady-er-Roumi 
was the body of the girl Amine, with a spear driven 
right through her body under the left breast. She had 
followed her companions to the mouth of the gully, and 
the spear which Hassan Ali had flung at Jim had 
struck the girl, passing through her heart. 

She was lying on her back, and the old man Abs’laam 
was crouched over her body. 

Death seemed to have been instantaneous. There 
was no look of pain on the lovely face, but rather one 
of slight surprise, and as Jim bent over her he thought 
he could trace on the dead features the same slight, 
mocking smile which he had noticed the first time he 
had seen her at Ain Sefra. Amine of the Senussi had 
faced her death, when it came to her, unafraid, as she 
had lived. 

Jim and Morsec bent over the dead girl and searched 
for any sign of life. They had both been in the Legion 
long enough, however, to know violent death when they 
saw it, and even as they searched they knew that it was 
hopeless. 

Then Jim closed the dead girl’s eyes and rose to his 
feet. 

“ That was meant for me,” he said hoarsely, “ and 
she took it. If she had never seen me she would be 
alive and happy now.” He was silent for a moment 
and then resumed. “ We must get on,” he said. “ She 
would have wished it ; but first I am going to put her 
in a safe place.” 

As he spoke, he took the dead girl in his arms and 
carried her back towards the cave. 


NAKED STEEL 


289 


He entered it, and then the inner one, with his bur- 
den, and placed it beside the figure of the Crusader. 
He straightened the limbs and crossed the hands on 
the breast. Then he stooped down and kissed the 
dead girl’s lips. 

“ Good-bye, dear, I’m sorry,” he said, and turned 
to the passage. 

As he entered it he gave one last look. Amine was 
lying as he had left her, and save for the red stain on 
her robe might have been asleep. Beautiful as she 
had been in life she was even more so in death, for the 
haughty look had faded from her face, leaving only 
one of infinite calm and peace. 

The last memory Jim Lingard was to carry away of 
the girl whose life had touched and mingled with his 
own, for such a short time and so tragically, was of her 
lying there in her beauty with the remains of the un- 
known warrior of a former age. 

Having seen to the dead, J im’s duty was now to the 
living. His comrade was wounded, how badly he did 
not know, and if they were ever to escape from the 
gullies of the Ahagger there was not a minute to be 
lost. At any moment the man who had escaped 
might return with an overpowering force, and in 
that case Jim knew only too well what the fate 
of his companion and himself would be. Whatever 
his feelings had been before, El Senussi was hardly 
likely to err in the direction of gentleness in his 
treatment of the men who had slain his principal 
lieutenant, and through whom his daughter had met 
her death'. 

He rejoined the other two. Abs’laam was seated 
on the ground staring straight in front of him, with his 
lips working but uttering no sound. Morsec was 

T 


290 


LOST SHEEP 


also seated, and was evidently very weak, but roused 
himself as he saw his comrade. 

Jim went up to him and helped him to his feet. 

“ Can you ride ? ” he asked. 

“ I think so,” returned the other, “ I’ll be all right 
in a little time. It’s only loss of blood ; anyhow we 
can’t stop here. Let’s get to the camels.” 

Jim bent over the old man. 

“ Are you coming with us or do you want stop here ? ” 
he asked in Arabic. 

Somewhat to his surprise, Abs’laam rose to his feet 
and accompanied the two to the camels, one of which 
he mounted. Jim also mounted, assisting his com- 
rade to do the same, and the party set off at a trot, the 
old Arab leading the way. 

By this time it was quite dark, and if they had not 
had a guide the journey would have been very slow; 
but the old man seemed to know every inch of the road, 
and they proceeded at a good pace. 

Jim’s attention was fully occupied by his comrade. 
Morsec made light of his wounds, which he per- 
sisted in describing as “ scratches,” but the fact re- 
mained that he had lost a great deal of blood, and the 
resultant weakness, combined with lack of food, ren- 
dered him utterly unfit for further fighting. 

He uttered no word of complaint, and did his best 
to distract his comrade’s thoughts by jesting, but it was 
plain that he was suffering severe pain. 

At last they arrived at the open space where they had 
halted on their arrival in the Ahagger, and this was 
where the value of having a guide was proved. The 
gullies, which led away in all directions like the spokes 
of a wheel from its nave, looked exactly alike in what 
light there was, and, had the fugitives been forced 


NAKED STEEL 


291 


to depend on their own judgment, precious time 
would have been wasted in searching for the one with 
Morsec’s landmark of the rock. Had they taken a 
wrong passage there would have been nothing to look 
forward to except a miserable death from thirst and 
hunger in the heart of the Ahagger. 

As it was, their guide never hesitated. He crossed 
the open space at a smart trot as if he was in haste to be 
clear of it, and his companions followed close behind 
him. 

Once Jim had the same sensation as he had had the 
first time of the place being full of dim forms skulking 
about in the shadows, but he could not be sure, and had 
no desire, even if he had time, to stop and investigate. 
He had had enough of the Ahagger, and if death was to 
come to him he preferred it in the clean spaces of the 
open desert, where at least he could see the blue sky, 
instead of in the haunted gorges of the Ahagger, where 
the very air seemed stagnant and unclean. 

They turned into another gully, and presently Jim 
recognised it as the one they had traversed on their 
first journey. Their guide had never uttered a syllable 
since they had left the House of the Stones, and now 
the other two fell silent — Morsec from pure weak- 
ness, and Jim because his thoughts did not render 
him talkative. The only sound was the regular pad- 
pad of the camels’ feet, and occasionally a far off rumble, 
as a rock detached itself from its parent mass and fell 
somewhere in the recesses of the mountains. 

They had been riding for some hours now, and already 
there was a smell of dawn in the air. Abs’laam evi- 
dently sensed it, for he urged his camel forward still 
faster. 

Jim suggested that it would not be daylight for some 


292 LOST SHEEP 


time still. Although he could feel the dawn, it was more 
a far off breath of it than anything else, and he was glad. 
It was fairly cool in the gorges during the day, but, once 
clear of them and in the open desert, he knew what the 
sun would be like, and what effect it would have on his 
companion's wounded head. Still, it was imperative 
that they should not halt. At any moment if the Sen- 
ussi pursued them they might make their appearance, 
and while in the open desert there was a chance of 
baffling them. There was none whatever of doing so in 
the place where they were, and perhaps for some hours 
after daybreak the heat outside might be endurable. 

The rocks at each side of the gorge were lower now, 
and from in front came occasional puffs of wind. As 
Jim felt the clean air of the desert, his heart leaped 
within him: at least outside there was clean space 
and clean sand, the same sand which had covered 
the bodies of so many of the Legion, and not those 
accursed rocks all around. Then the rocks grew lower 
and lower, and at last fell away altogether ; they were 
out of the Ahagger and on to the desert again. 

Here their guide halted. As his camel knelt, he 
slipped off its back and turned to Jim. 

“ I have brought you so far," he said, in perfectly 
good French, “ because she would have wished it. 
Now I can do no more. Your way is clear before you," 
and he pointed to the North. “ Go — and remember 
Amine of the Senussi 1 " 

“But yourself?" said Jim, “what about you? 
Better come with us. If the Senussi lay hands on you, 
your death will not be an easy one ! " 

The old man made a gesture of refusal. 

“ I go to my own place and my own people," he said. 
“ Farewell." 


NAKED STEEL 293 


He stepped back into the shadow of a rock and a 
shadow seemed to pass before Jim’s eyes for a second. 
When it cleared the old man was gone, as if he had 
never been there. All that was left, to indicate his 
presence a moment ago, was his camel kneeling on the 
sand in front of the two white men. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


NORTHWARD ACROSS THE TANEZRAFET 

J IM stared, then rubbed his eyes. One moment 
before he had seen the old man there in front 
of him — had spoken to him — now he was 
gone as if he never existed, and unless he had 
vanished into the solid rock or sunk into the sand there 
did not seem to be any place where he could have con- 
cealed himself. However, Jim’s recent experiences 
had left small room for astonishment at whatever 
might happen, and dismissing the occurrence from 
his mind he bent his energies to escaping. 

First of all he weighed the probabilities or otherwise 
of winning through. Against them was the fact that 
they had not eaten for some time, and were con- 
sequently weak, also that his companion was wounded 
and practically disabled. Besides, beyond a vague 
idea that the way led North, where AbsTaam had 
pointed, he had no knowledge of the route to be taken. 
Landmarks there were none — at least to a European 
eye — in the desert, and El Rasa was the nearest 
oasis of which he had any knowledge. 

On the other hand, he and his companion were armed 
and well mounted. The camels which they had cap- 
tured were Meharis , or racing camels, such as are used 
by the Touaregs on their lightning raids, and were as 
different from the ordinary baggage camel as a racer 
294 


NORTHWARD ACROSS THE TANEZRAFET 295 


is from a cart horse. Also they were well provided with 
water — which is the essential in the desert — for on each 
of the saddles of the camels was hung a skin bottle 
full of water, quite enough to last two men three or 
four days. 

All things considered, always supposing that they 
were not pursued and overtaken, or that they did not 
lose their way, there was at least a level chance of their 
winning through, but to avoid the former contingency 
there was no time to be wasted before starting. 
Morsec was evidently of the same opinion. 

“ So the old man has gone,” he said, “ I move we 
follow his example. I don’t know about you, but I 
have had just about enough of this place generally. 
It gives me the creeps ! ” 

“ So it does me,” said Jim; “ but before we start 
let’s have a look at those ‘ scratches ’ of yours.” 

He examined Morsec’s wounds rapidly. 

Neither of them was serious, but the lieutenant had 
lost a good deal of blood — which, however, had now 
ceased to flow — and he presented a ghastly spectacle 
with his face and haik covered with dried blood. 

Jim tore a strip off his own haik, and, having used 
some of the precious water to soak it thoroughly, 
bound it round his companion’s head and wounded 
shoulder, so as to keep the wounds as cool as possible. 
Then he transferred the water bottle from the camel 
which had been ridden by Abs’laam to his own saddle 
and mounted. 

The sun was not yet high, and it was necessary to 
make what speed they could before it became really 
hot. So, taking their direction from the sun, they 
headed as nearly northwards as they could judge. 

The camels were comparatively fresh and well fed, 


296 LOST SHEEP 


and kept up their swinging trot without flagging. Jim 
would have liked to have set a faster pace, but, as it 
was, the motion was almost more than Morsec in his 
wounded state could bear. He clung to his saddle 
bravely, but underneath the mask of dried blood his 
face was ghastly white and his lips were twisted with 
pain — although for all he was suffering he gave no 
outward sign. On the contrary, when he spoke at 
all, it was to utter a jest about the rough pace of his 
camel, or to compliment Jim on the result of his fight 
with Hassan Ali. 

Four years previously Jim Lingard had held the 
usual British opinion of “ foreigners/' and particularly 
Frenchmen. They were all very well in their way, 
but an inscrutable Providence had made them in some 
way different from Englishmen, and when endurance, 
or bravery was needed — well, the Almighty had created 
Englishmen for that special reason, so why trouble to 
expect them from anyone else ? Now for over three 
years he had mixed on terms of extreme intimacy with 
the despised “ foreigner" — many of them the outcasts 
of their own nations — and his ideas had undergone a 
radical change. 

In this special case he had to own to himself that, in 
a like position, he probably would not have behaved 
as well as his companion, and certainly would not have 
carried two painful wounds with the same debonair 
lightness. Never once since they had been captured 
had Morsec been despondent or out of temper, even 
when things looked blackest. Well, whatever hap- 
pened, Jim was going to fetch him through if it were 
humanly possible. Probably life meant something to 
the lieutenant, and he was of some importance to 
somebody. Anyhow he was something better than a 


NORTHWARD ACROSS THE TANEZRAFET 297 


damned sous-off. Then Morsec’s cool voice cut in on 
his thoughts. 

“ It looks as if we were going to have another 
fantasia/' he remarked. “ There’s a man coming up 
behind us.” 

Jim swung round in his saddle. Not more than half 
a mile behind a man was approaching, riding at the full 
pace of his camel. There was no doubt as to what his 
intentions were, for Jim could see the flicker of naked 
steel above the rider’s head, and even at that distance 
hear the shouted : “ Allah Akbar — Senussi ! ” 

As far as Jim could see there was only a single 
pursuer, and he could not understand it until Morsec 
spoke. 

“ That's the gentleman that I was arguing with while 
you were conducting your affaire ,” he said calmly. 
“ You remember he bolted when you finished your man. 
I suppose he was afraid to go back to his chief and report 
what happened, so he has followed us. If he takes 
our heads back with him I expect he thinks that his 
chief will overlook his — er — lack of zeal 1 ” 

Jim set his teeth and urged his camel on. He was 
furiously angry. He had done enough fighting for one 
night, and had almost persuaded himself that all danger 
of pursuit was past. Now here was this wretched, in- 
considerate brute of an Arbi bent on making trouble. 

He turned in his saddle again and looked behind. 
Their pursuer was much closer and coming on at a 
reckless pace, evidently bent on vengeance. Jim 
slackened pace. If the Arbi was so deadly set on a 
fight, by the Lord he should have it, and let him see 
how he liked it. 

Jim turned to his companion. 

“ Look here,” he said rapidly, “ I’m going to argue 


298 LOST SHEEP 


with this gentleman, and impress on him that we don’t 
want his company. Do you go on, and if anything 
happens keep on North until you strike an oasis.” He 
held out his hand, but Morsec laughed in his face. 

“ I’m going on fteaudezebie,” he answered calmly. 
“ I didn’t think you were so selfish, Lingard. You 
want all the fun to yourself.” 

There was no time for argument, the pad of the 
pursuing camel’s hoofs was coming closer and closer. 
Jim swung his mount round and drew his great 
weapon. The Arab was armed with a flissa, and 
by the black veil which covered his face and chest 
was a Touareg. He held straight on for Jim, with his 
weapon held high over his head in readiness for a slash, 
and his eyes blazing above the black veil. 

Jim manoeuvred his camel so as to bring his pursuer 
on his right or sword-arm side. He knew that if he 
could get in one blow with his heavy weapon, it would 
settle matters, but what he feared was that, a cut once 
delivered, the lighter and more handy weapon which the 
Arab carried would get inside his guard before he could 
recover himself. 

As the on-coming camel tore past, its rider leaned far 
over in the saddle and slashed at the white man’s neck 
with a vicious cut delivered from the wrist. It seemed 
to slide past Jim’s blade, but was stopped with a jar — 
which the Arab must have felt to his shoulder blade — 
by the cross hilt of the old sword. Jim cut hard in 
return, but the pace of the other’s camel was too fast, 
and the well-meant effort fell short. 

Jim wrenched his mount round. The Arab’s rush 
had carried him some fifty yards on before he could 
halt, but as soon as he could do so he also turned. 

The two men sat looking at each other for a mo- 


NORTHWARD ACROSS THE TANEZRAFET 299 


ment. Then the Arab raised his flissa, shook up his 
camel and charged again with a shout. 

This time he came more slowly, and had time to 
deliver two lightning cuts, both of which Jim managed 
to stop, but had no time to return. 

As his enemy wheeled for the third attack, Jim 
realised that the game was all to his disadvantage. 
In this quick exchange of cut and parry his heavy 
weapon had no chance against the lighter one, whereas, 
if he could bring the Arab to a halt, its mere weight 
would probably break down the guard opposed to it. 

As the Arab came at him again, Jim deliberately 
manoeuvred his mount so as to meet the other’s camel 
head on, and bring it to a halt. He was completely 
successful. The two animals met with a jar, and next 
moment the riders w r ere looking into each other’s 
eyes. 

Jim was too close to the other to use the full sweep 
of his blade, but leaning over he seized the Arab by the 
throat with his left hand, shortening the sword in his 
right, and feeling with its point for his opponent’s arm- 
pit. 

The Arab choked and gurgled and tried to wrench 
himself free, but could not. Then he raised his flissa 
and brought down the heavy knob at the end of the 
hilt with a downward sweep of his arm on Jim’s fore- 
head. 

Jim’s grasp relaxed and he rolled backwards in the 
saddle. If it had not been for the high cantle he would 
have fallen off altogether. 

He had a vision of a black veil with a pair of blazing 
eyes above it, and of an up-flung blade, but it all seemed 
to be in a dream. Then through the dream came a 
sharp crack like that of a whip, the threatening blade 


300 


LOST SHEEP 


made an aimless circle and fell to the ground, and the 
veiled face disappeared. 

A moment after he was upright again in the saddle, 
feeling sick and giddy, but, with the exception of a 
bruise on his forehead, unhurt. 

Morsec was seated on his camel close beside the 
fallen Arab, with a smile on his blood-grimed face, and 
his smoking Browning in his hand. 

“ I must apologise for thrusting myself into your 
affairs, mon vieux,” he remarked, “ but really it seemed 
the only thing to do. That Arab devil would have got 
his flissa into your head in another second I " 

Jim laughed rather weakly. 

“Oh, don't apologise," he said. “ If it hadn’t been 
for you I should have been there " — and he pointed to 
the prostrate Arab — “ by this time." 

Morsec replaced his pistol carefully in the breast 
of his tunic. 

“ Good job I happened to think of this little tool be- 
fore we left Ain Sefra," he said thoughtfully. “ If 
your friend had got you I should have had a lonely 
ride for the rest of the way, and I’d have hated 
that ! " 

Jim wheeled his camel. He hoped with all his heart 
that the rest of the journey was going to be uneventful. 
He felt that he had had enough excitement during the 
last week or ten days to last him for the rest of his life, 
or at any rate for a very considerable period, and what 
he wanted now was rest, and plenty of it. 

All that day, with the exception of one short halt, the 
flight continued. The heat was the worst part of it, but 
even that was considerably mitigated by the fact that 
the fugitives possessed an ample supply of water, at 
least for their more immediate needs. As the sun grew 


NORTHWARD ACROSS THE TANEZRAFET 301 


hotter, however, Morsec grew light-headed from his 
wounds. He talked continuously of Paris and iced 
drinks, and twice J im had to restrain him by force from 
dismounting and going to make the acquaintance of the 
fascinating damsels with whom he averred the desert 
was peopled. 

Jim had no very definite idea in which direction 
they were travelling, or whether they were heading for 
El Rasa at all or not. He kept a rough northerly 
course by the sun, and for the rest trusted to the 
camel’s instinct which will lead it across miles of desert 
to the nearest water. Twice he turned out of his way 
at the sight of distant palm-trees, and twice as they 
approached them the trees wavered and dissolved into 
the desert. 

The problem of food was also becoming serious. 
For over thirty-six hours neither he or his comrade had 
eaten a morsel, and in that time they had both fought 
hard and ridden far. 

Even if they got to El Rasa, it was doubtful if they 
would be able to proceed any further without something 
to eat, and Jim knew that the only chance of getting 
it was from wandering Arabs, who were far more likely 
to be hostile than friendly. 

By this time the camels had slowed down to a walk, 
and it was apparent that they would not be able to 
go much further without a rest. Morsec had ceased 
speaking and was in a semi-comatose state, half lying 
over the high pommel of his saddle, occasionally rising 
upright with a jerk, only to subside again. 

Jim was considering halting for the night, or at least 
for some hours, where they were, when suddenly his 
camel raised its head, and of its own accord again broke 
into a trot, Morsec's following its example. 


302 LOST SHEEP 


Jim looked up. Straight ahead there were objects 
which broke the level line of the desert, and as they drew 
closer he could see that they were palm-trees. They 
were exactly like the mirages which he had already 
followed fruitlessly, but Jim knew that while a human 
being, and especially a European, could easily be 
deceived by the mirage, the instinct of the camel was 
a different thing, and that what he saw ahead was 
real and no mocking illusion. 

The only thing that he was doubtful about was 
whether the oasis in front of him was that of El Rasa 
or not. In the march across the desert, with no other 
guide than the sun and practically no idea of the 
direction of El Rasa, it was quite conceivable that he 
had missed his object altogether. If so — well, here at 
least was shelter for the night, but he had still to find 
his way back to Douargala or some other of the Legion’s 
posts on the fringe of the desert. However, they were 
close to the clump of palms by this time, and his doubts 
were set at rest by a grim landmark. On the edge of the 
oasis was what looked like a post with a white frame 
hung on it — the remains of the man who had been em- 
paled by the orders of the Emir Abd-ul-malek before 
he left the oasis. The scavengers of the desert had 
done their work well, for nothing remained of the body 
except bare bones, which still hung on the tree that 
had served as stake, and looked out over the desert 
like a grim sentinel. 

As they entered the oasis, the weary camels knelt of 
their own accord and Jim, sliding to the ground, helped 
his comrade off and assisted him to the well. Here he 
undid his bandages and washed his wounds, afterwards 
rebandaging them and washing the dried blood from 
his face and shoulder. 


NORTHWARD ACROSS THE TANEZRAFET 303 


Under this treatment Morsec revived considerably 
and was soon able to speak rationally. 

Jim left him seated with his back to a tree and, after 
watering and securing the camels, left them to graze on 
the coarse herbage, while he started to explore the 
oasis. 

As he passed over the site of the encampment of his 
late captors, something lying on the ground caught his 
eye. He picked it up half idly and then opened it. 
It was a small goatskin bag, three quarters full of dried 
dates, and had evidently been dropped and left by one 
of the Senussi. Jim gave a sigh of relief. At any rate, 
here was food of a kind, sufficient at least to keep the 
life in them for some days if properly husbanded. 

He returned to Morsec with his find, and in a few 
minutes both men were making a meal, necessarily 
simple, but still satisfying. 

It was by this time full night and, as he wiped his lips 
after his meal, Jim asked his comrade whether he would 
push on, or take the risk of stopping in the oasis. 

Morsec was emphatic on the subject. 

“Not another yard do I go to-night/' he declared 
firmly, “ not if the whole Senussi sect was within a 
mile. Eve had enough for one day." 

Jim looked at him sympathetically. 

“ Head bad ? " he queried. 

“ Well, yes — fairly so," returned Morsec, “ but it 
isn't so much my head that I'm thinking of. Did you 
find your saddle so very soft ? " 

Jim felt himself tenderly. 

“ Not so very," he admitted. “ Very well then, we 
will take our chance for to-night and get away with 
dawn. Now you must have some sleep. I will keep 
guard." 


304 LOST SHEEP 


Morsec remonstrated : he was quite fit to stand his 
watch, and Jim wanted sleep as badly as he did. 

Jim cut him short. 

“ When we get back,” he said, “ I’ll have to take 
orders from you. In the meantime I command here, 
and my orders are for you to get your rest 1 ” 

Morsec grinned and obeyed; and Jim Lingard spent 
the night seated with his back to a tree, the naked 
sword of Ralph de Barham across his knees, watching 
over his sleeping comrade. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


BACK TO THE FOLD 

T HE chill of the dawn was in the air when Jim 
rose stiffly and went towards the camels. 
He was deadly sleepy and his eyes felt as if 
the lids had been gummed together, but otherwise 
he was the better of what rest he had managed to 
get. The camels were kneeling and still grazing, and, 
after having examined them, J im went over to the spring 
and washed his head and neck, a proceeding which 
freshened him up considerably. Then he returned 
to Morsec, who by this time was awake and sitting 
up. The latter seemed very much better. He was 
still weak, but the fever had left him, and he was as 
cheerful as ever. As Jim approached he saluted him 
with a wave of his hand. 

“ I have slept like a log, mon vieux,” he announced, 
“ thanks to you. Well, it will be my turn to-night/’ 
and he tried to stand up, but staggered and sat down 
again. 

“ I’m afraid I'm a bit giddy still,” he said apolo- 
getically, “ but that will pass. I’ll be all right 
presently. Now, what is the programme for to- 
day ? ” 

“ Get on our way,” returned Jim. “ We have stayed 
here quite long enough. It is just luck that they 

haven’t followed us — yet ” he threw an anxious 

u 305 


306 LOST SHEEP 


glance to the South, but the desert was bare of all signs 
of life, and he continued, “ The best thing we can do 
is to get on and make for Douargala, or anyhow keep 
North and trust to striking one of our posts. But you 
— are you fit to ride ? ” 

Morsec moved his legs. 

“ Still devilish stiff — and sore/' he remarked; “ but 
I can ride. Eve seen all I want to of those Senussi 
devils ! ’ 

He rose stiffly and accompanied Jim to the camels, 
which they mounted. 

As Jim got on his camel’s back he looked northward 
in the direction they had to go, and then looked again. 
Yes, out there in the desert was a moving dot. Jim 
turned to his companion. 

“ We’re not out of the wood yet,” he said, between his 
teeth, “ there’s some one out there in front of us,” and 
he pointed. 

Morsec looked also. 

“ Looks like a man on horseback,” he said doubt- 
fully, “ and there’s only one.” 

Jim strained his eyes. Beyond the moving dot, 
which was rapidly approaching and growing in size 
he could see others — many others, riding together. 
If they were Arabs, he and his comrade were done 
for ; but perhaps — he looked again. The moving 
figure was close enough now for him to make out that 
it was a man riding a white horse, and Jim could catch 
the gleam of a flying scarlet cloak in the morning 
sunlight. 

He turned to Morsec and saluted formally. 

“ Spahis , mon lieutenant ,” he ’said, “ we are safe 
now.” 

In a way Jim did not feel so glad as he ought 


BACK TO THE FOLD 307 


to have. Since they had been taken prisoners 
Morsec and himself had utterly dropped, indeed 
forgotten, the difference in rank which existed 
between them, and Jim felt that with its necessary 
resumption a barrier had risen between himself and 
his comrade. 

Morsec looked at him keenly under his bandage, 
and then patted him on the shoulder. 

“Don’t think that, mon vieux ,” he said, “ whatever 
happens, and whatever difference in rank there may be 
between us, you are always my comrade — the comrade 
who brought me through! And I don’t fancy that 
there will be a difference of rank between us long,” 
he added, half to himself. 

By this time the Spahi had come within a hundred 
yards or so of the oasis, and was advancing cautiously 
with his carbine at the “ ready.” 

Jim saluted again. 

“Will you hail him, mon lieutenant?" he asked. 

But a sudden and alarming change had passed over 
Morsec, who was leaning forward in his saddle like a 
man in the last stage of weakness. Jim stared at him, 
and to his astonishment the lieutenant favoured him 
with a wink. 

“No,” he said, “ you had better do it, adjudant. I 
am much too weak — so weak that I could never have 
taken the journey from the Ahagger or lived through 
the night afterwards but for your gallantry and care, 
as I shall report to the colonel.” He winked at Jim 
again, pressed his shoulder affectionately and subsided 
still lower in his saddle, looking the very picture of 
woe. 

Jim rode forward and hailed the Spahi in Arabic, 
only to find himself promptly covered by the carbine, 


3 o8 LOST SHEEP 


and it was not until he had repeated his hail in French 
that the weapon was lowered. 

: ^jThe Spahi approached with his weapon still at 
the “ ready,” and evidently far from easy in his 
mind. 

“ Qui vive ? ” he challenged as he halted. 

“The Lieutenant de Morsec and the Adjutant 
Lingard, both of the Legion,” returned Jim. “ Where 
is your officer ? I wish to report to him.” 

The Spahi looked surprised. 

“ God is great,” he remarked piously. “ We 
thought that you had fattened the vultures these 
seven days 1 ” 

He wheeled his horse and galloped back to the 
column. A few minutes afterwards two officers 
arrived, to whom Jim made his report, Morsec 
taking no part in the proceedings except to groan 
at intervals. 

However, after a hearty meal provided by their 
rescuers, he recovered. The tale of their adventures, 
and Jim’s share in them, lost nothing in the telling, 
and Jim was very conscious that the two Spahi officers 
were regarding him with admiring eyes. They both 
showed keen interest in the tale of the journey which the 
two fugitives had taken, and especially in the details 
of the strength of the Senussi, and the rock fortress 
in the Ahagger. 

After he had heard all that was to be told, the 
squadron commander struck his fist into his open 
palm. 

“ Dieu de Dieu,” he growled, " and those sacripants 
are there — within two days’ march of our frontier — 
and the Government will do nothing, as usual. No! 
The country is pacified, the population is 4 peaceful, 


BACK TO THE FOLD 


309 


industrious and well affected’ ” — he was quoting from 
a recent speech delivered by a famous politician — 
“ and so no steps must be taken. If they were it 
might be called ‘ war,’ and that would be bad for the 
Government — and bad for the fifteen thousand francs a 
year of their supporters — Its me degoutent a la fin , ces 
bons hommes ! ” and he expectorated in a vulgar manner, 
which left no doubt of his feelings towards those who 
guided the destiny of his country. Then addressing 
Morsec, “ Well, lieutenant ,” he said, “ we were sent to 
find out if the Senussi were still on the oasis. You 
and your adjutant are supposed to have been killed 
in the little affair you had here last week. I expect 
they will be surprised to see you at Douargala. Your 
company will be pleased too, I fancy. The Legion don’t 
care to leave their dead ! ” 

“And the company?” inquired Morsec anxiously, 
“ did they suffer heavily ? ” 

“Not very heavily,” returned the Spahi, “ ten men 
killed or wounded, perhaps. Your sergeant put up a 
very good fight. After they had beaten off the Arbis, 
they put in the best part of a day looking for your 
remains, and then it was too late to follow. Well, 
we may as well get back now 1 I expect your colonel 
will be glad to get your report.” 

Some hours later they rode into Douargala, and there 
was a wild rush of men to see their two comrades, who 
had been given up for dead. Jim had never known 
that he was so popular. He had his hands almost 
shaken off and was forced to tell and retell the tale 
of his adventures, until he could hardly speak. One 
part of them he kept to himself. He made no mention of 
Amine or the part which she had taken in their escape. 
The girl had been his — if only for a moment — and dead 


LOST SHEEP 


or alive, his alone he intended that she should remain. 
As he stretched himself in his narrow cot that night he 
thought with a shudder of that grated cell in the House 
of the Stones and of its occupant. If it had not been 
for the dead girl he himself in all probability would have 
been there instead of where he was — with the Lost 
Sheep of the Legion. 

The next morning came an interview with Captain 
Faes, who took copious notes of their narrative for trans- 
mission to head-quarters, and then life at Douargala 
settled down into its accustomed groove. One morning, 
however, about three weeks after their return, an official 
message came ordering Lieutenant de Morsec to proceed 
to Sidi-bel-Abbes without delay, and two days after 
a similar one arrived for Jim. 

He was rather glad. Douargala was too close to 
the desert, and every time he looked at the yellow- 
grey expanse of sand it reminded him of his journey, 
and also of Amine. Sidi-bel-Abbes was civilisation of 
a kind, and might make him forget, and that was what 
he wished to do if it were possible. So it was with a 
lighter heart than he carried at any time since his 
return that he set off for Ain Sefra en route for Sidi- 
bel-Abbes. 

He arrived at head-quarters late one afternoon and 
reported himself to the officer of the week, who was 
distinctly amiable. 

“The Adjutant Lingard?” he said, “ bon. Well, 
adjudant, the colonel has left orders that you are to 
see him as soon as you arrive.” 

Jim followed the officer to the colonel’s bureau. 

Colonel Giradot of the ist etrangere was seated at 
his table, a soldierly, white-haired figure ; and to Jim’s 
surprise Morsec was also in the room. 


BACK TO THE FOLD 


3ii 


As Jim entered the colonel looked at him. 

“ The Adjutant Lingard ? ” he queried. 

Jim saluted. 

“ Yes, mon colonel ,” he answered. 

Colonel Giradot turned over some papers on the 
table. 

“You were an officer in the British cavalry before 
you came to us ? ” he said. 

And again Jim answered, “ Yes.” 

“ I have here,” pursued the colonel, “ a com- 
munication from M. the Minister of War, appointing 
you” — here he paused, and then continued — “ that is, 
should you care accept it, to a lieutenancy in the legion 
etr anger e. I may add, on behalf of myself and my 
officers, that we shall be more than pleased to welcome 
you among us, and also to congratulate you on the 
bravery and resource you have shown ; and in par- 
ticular, on the gallant way in which you behaved when 
attacked while making your escape. Well ? ” and he 
looked at Jim inquiringly. 

Jim could hardly speak. The news had taken him 
utterly by surprise. 

“ Mon colonel ,” he began — but the colonel cut him 
short. 

“ I take it that is settled then,” he said, with a 
smile; “ my congratulations, lieutenant , and now you 
must be tired after your journey. Lieutenant de 
Morse c will put you up for the night. Bon soir, et bonne 
chance ! ” 

As Jim walked across the parade ground, his head 
was in a whirl. At last — at last his chance had come 
again, and this time it would not be his fault if he did 
not use it ! 

At the door of Morsec’s quarters he turned for 


312 LOST SHEEP 


a moment. The sun was sinking red over the 
desert, and to Jim Lingard it seemed that it was 
setting on his old life, to rise again next morning 
on a new one. 


THE END 



















